


Return

by HixyStix



Series: Return 'verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cultural Differences, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Battle of Endor (Star Wars), Post-Siege of Lasan (Star Wars), Rebuilding, Zeb's Family, the scent of pine is strong in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 95,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: The war is over.  For the moment, there is peace in the galaxy.Setting life as soldiers behind them, Zeb and Kallus travel to Lira San, only to discover it isn’t as idyllic as they thought it would be.  Zeb finds himself missing Lasan more than ever––so he decides to return home.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: Return 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149224
Comments: 303
Kudos: 182





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to sempaiko for brainstorming this with me and nefariosity for betaing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, Kallus’s ship name and Dee-Four come from the _Star Wars Adventures Annual 2020_ while his other crew members come from my fic _A Safe Haven_ and its upcoming sequel. You don’t need to know anything about them to get this prologue.
> 
>  _Vo’arik_ is some of Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana, the equivalent of ‘bastard’.

It’d been a long war. It’d been an exhausting war. Kallus had only been sixteen when he became a soldier, when the Republic Diplomatic School transitioned into the Royal Imperial Academy, and he was now approaching forty as he sat in the _Glimmer_ ’s cockpit, watching slack-jawed as the second Death Star – and purportedly Palpatine himself – exploded.

A gnawing pit deep in his stomach told him the war wasn’t over yet, despite this most obvious of victories.

The battle paused as everyone, even the Imperials, watched the explosion with surprise. While everyone was distracted, Kallus allowed himself a moment – just a moment – to glance toward Endor’s moon, where Zeb and Rex were serving as commandos, and wonder if either of them was still alive.

A moment was all he had, though, because the battle quickly reengaged. A green turbolaser bolt shot their way and Kallus pulled the ship up, reacting more on instinct than any amount of skill.

Next to him, Dee-Four emitted a yelp at the same time one of the MSE droids squealed and skittered out of the room. Kallus startled at the combined noise and let the ship level out for just a second.

It was enough for the second turbolaser blast to hit them, flashing across their shields and making the whole ship shudder.

 _Kriffing droids_ , Kallus thought, though he didn’t really mean it. “Strap in, Dee-Four,” he instructed, as if the droid wasn’t already gripping the seat tightly. “We’re not through yet.”

“Yes, Master Kallus,” the protocol droid responded before quietly fretting to itself. “Why didn’t I stay behind?”

Kallus laughed as he spun the _Glimmer_ , juking and diving between lasers, catching brief sight of capital ships beginning to move. “You do realize you’d have still been in the battle, just on _Home One_ or another Mon Calamari frigate, right?”

“Oh my,” the droid responded.

 _Those ships are retreating_ , Kallus noted, watching the remaining Imperial Star Destroyers make their way out of the fray. _I wonder who’s in charge now. Vader? Can’t be. He’d never retreat._

Admiral Ackbar’s image appeared over the comm controls, shimmery and blue. “ _The Imperial forces are in retreat!_ ” he said, the normally calm Mon Calamari unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “ _No formal surrender has been offered._ ”

 _In other words, keep firing_ , Kallus mentally translated as the fleet-wide transmission cut off.

Kallus leveled out the _Glimmer_ , finding a light cruiser to target. On the starboard side of the viewport, Kallus saw a familiar ship glide into position next to him.

If he hadn’t known the ship’s profile by heart, he’d have still recognized the pilot: only Hera Syndulla could control a freighter with such a deft hand.

“ _You all still there, Fulcrum_?” asked Hera over the comm.

Kallus replied slowly, his focus primarily on firing at the cruiser. “Jaci’s in the back with the droids. We got tagged, but not bad, I don’t think.”

He didn’t need to ask how Hera was doing. The _Ghost_ , of course, looked pristine.

“Heard from the surface?”

The slight laugh in Hera’s voice told Kallus his question hadn’t been as subtle as he hoped. “ _No word from Zeb or Rex yet. Imagine they’re still busy, too_.”

“Imagine so.”

In front of them, the Imperial fleet, amassed once more, jumped to hyperspace, leaving behind only those ships too crippled to make lightspeed – including the cruiser the _Glimmer_ and the _Ghost_ had targeted.

Ackbar’s figure and voice cut off any reply Hera might have made. “ _Rebel fleet, please return to staging positions. Starfighters, round up our stragglers_.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Dee-Four. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” Kallus answered. He hit the ship intercom. “Jaci, are we stable?”

“ _You bet we are!_ ” answered Jaci, a little bit of defensiveness in her voice.

 _How **dare** I question her work?_ Kallus chuckled to himself. “Get up here, you’ll want to see this. We won this round.”

“ ** _Kriff_** _yeah!_ ”

Moments later, Kallus heard the scramble of feet down the _Glimmer_ ’s hall, followed by the beeping of all three of their MSE droids. Jaci burst into the cockpit, a huge grin on her face which quickly became a look of awe.

“Tell me that debris is the Death Star,” the mechanic asked.

“That debris is the Death Star,” Dee-Four promptly recited.

“Really really?” Jaci double-checked, looking at Kallus, who grinned.

“Really,” he answered. “The Imperials retreated and we’re regrouping. I wanted you to see it before we flew off.”

Flopping in the chair behind Kallus, Jaci leaned forward and punched his shoulder. “We did it!” she said, exhilaration filling every word. “Told ya so!”

“Now we find out how much it cost us,” Kallus said, then squeezed his eyes shut, wincing. Jaci had not fared well in past major battles, losing family and friends and lovers.

Hopefully this time they hadn’t lost loved ones, any of them.

Kallus guided the _Glimmer_ back into position, behind the _Ghost_ and _Millennium Falcon_ , facing the large frigates. It took long enough for their next instructions to come that Kallus assumed High Command was as stunned as he was.

Both the _Glimmer_ and the _Ghost_ were directed to dock on _Home One_ , the two ships landing next to each other. Jaci ran down the ramp while Kallus restrained himself. Dee-Four ambled behind them as fast as it could manage.

Hera strode purposefully down the _Ghost_ ’s ramp, a look of mixed exhaustion and exhilaration on her face. “Obviously the surface mission was a success, since that shield came down.”

Kallus nodded. That much was plain. “Are they bringing up the surface companies?”

She shook her head. “Sounds like we’re supposed to go down there. Something about a party.”

“A party?” Kallus was a little dumbstruck. He supposed the death of the Emperor and the Imperial retreat were worth celebrating, but a _party_?

“I was told we’d see when we got down there.” Hera shrugged. “Help me load up all the pilots and crew you can find so we can ferry them down.”

Kallus nodded, motioning to Jaci toward the mechanic’s corner; she could gather them while he helped Hera grab pilots as they landed.

A _party_.

Huh.

* * *

The sun was barely behind the planet of Endor and Zeb was well on his way to being totally drunk. The karking ewoks kept shoving a bright pink drink – strong and sweet and intoxicating – in his hands when they weren’t already occupied by the rotgut lum the commandos brewed in their rooms.

He was _attempting_ not to get smashed just yet; the battle had been over for hours and he still hadn’t found out what happened to the _Ghost_.

Or the _Glimmer_.

“Z!” called a voice from across a swaying rope bridge.

Zeb looked at the bridge seriously before deciding not to attempt a crossing in his current state. Instead he waved at the source of the hail: Zaarin and Mikal, two of the commandos.

And members of Kallus’s crew.

Not that _that_ was very important.

“Zaarin!” he greeted as the commandos neared. “Mikal! Thought you were on the other side of the moon.”

“We were,” said Mikal, “but Command is trying to centralize everyone here.”

Zeb looked around at the already-crowded village. “Think the place’ll hold up to that many people?”

“Guess it’ll have to.” Zaarin shrugged.

“You seen the _Glimmer_?” Zeb asked, hoping he sounded casual enough. He looked down into the bright pink berry drink, feeling his fur ruffle in embarrassment.

Apparently the drink had blasted his ability to hide his emotions, because both Zaarin and Mikal laughed. Zaarin grabbed the rough hewn cup from Zeb, taking a swig. “Sounds like you’ve had enough of that already.”

Mikal was kinder. “We’re off to find her ourselves and get some sleep. You’re welcome to join us. Word is that the _Ghost_ is on the ground, so we figure the _Glimmer_ can’t be too far away.”

Zaarin clapped Zeb on the shoulder and set off through the crowd, holding tight to Mikal’s hand as he went. Zeb did his best to follow along and sort out his thoughts as he went.

He wanted to see Hera and Kallus and Jaci and the ships and make sure everyone survived the battle. He’d already seen Rex and now Zaarin and Mikal, so he knew all the ground crew he cared about had survived. 

But he wanted more than that, didn’t he? He needed to see Kallus specifically. He needed to know his best friend was all right. He needed to see that blond hair and those stupid muttonchops and those eyes that would look so dark in the firelight but could shine bright as anything in the sun. He needed to–

Zeb shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. They’d had an unlikely friendship for years and while Zeb felt their connection was strong, there had never been much hope for it to become anything else. Even if they’d wanted something more, the Alliance kept them both on the run, doing missions and projects well apart from each other. Zeb could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Kallus since the Hoth evacuation.

That was the only reason it was so important to find Kallus, he told himself: he just hadn’t seen his friend in a while and he wanted to be sure Kallus made it through the battle safely. 

That was all.

Zeb pushed through the tightness in his chest as he followed Mikal’s lithe purple form through the crowd. Torchlight flickered around them as they made their way through the village.

The ewok village reminded him of Lasan, a bit. Most lasat had lived in large cities, like Ithdasira, the royal capital where Zeb had spent his Honor Guard years, but some old settlements still remained in the woods, winding up and through the huge olimilau trees, as their ancestors used to live. He’d been born in such a settlement, though his family had moved when he was still quite young.

The only problem with the ewok village was that it was only a third of the size Zeb thought it should be – a fact which left him a little wary of the sturdiness of the platforms and bridges. They were meant to hold crowds of ewoks, not larger species.

Still, as he made his way down to the forest floor, the winding stairways and wide platforms were comforting in his half-drunk state. 

He couldn’t wait to show Kallus the view from the top reaches of the village. He couldn’t wait to tell Kallus about how it reminded him of Lasa–

Zeb stumbled. 

_Oh_. Kallus probably already knew that.

Licking his lips, he wished Zaarin hadn’t taken his drink. He could use another swig right about then.

A soft hand slipped in his and Zeb looked up to see Mikal smiling at him as they reached the forest floor. The undergrowth beneath the village was soft and spongy, mostly mosses. A well-worn path wound its way through the trees and out into the forest, which just made Zeb think of Lasan all the more.

Sure, he’d been on Endor’s surface during the attacks on the Imperial planetside facilities, but he’d been focused on the _job_. He hadn’t let himself smell the wood and rot and new growth and petrichor that he remembered from Lasan. He hadn’t let himself listen to anything but the movement of stormtroopers and his own men; he certainly hadn’t paid attention to birds and other fauna moving through the trees.

He was paying attention now, though. Zeb’s ears twitched at each tiny sound, from Zaarin’s slight laugh as he looked back at Mikal, to the movement of small critters in the brush.

None of those sounds mattered, however; he was listening for the shrill electric whine that meant a ship was nearby and powered up. Preferably, he’d hear the slight waver in that whine identifying the ship as the _Glimmer of Hope_.

Or the _Ghost_. The _Ghost_ would be good, too.

Lights shone through the tall tree trunks, illuminating an Imperial landing pad – and on that pad, the _Ghost_.

The _Ghost_ was lit up and the three of them entered, Zaarin and Mikal dropping behind to let Zeb lead the way.

Hera sat in the common area, talking on the holocomm to young Jacen, safely ensconced with her father on Ryloth. She glanced Zeb’s way and nodded.

Zeb stopped where he was, not wanting to interrupt further.

It took a few minutes for Hera to finish up – the near tantrum Jacen pitched when Hera tried to say good night told Zeb it was close to bedtime for the kit – but she signed off and launched from her seat to wrap Zeb in a hug.

Zeb hugged back. “Glad to see you and the _Ghost_ made it,” he said. “Any chance Chopper was a casualty?”

Hera laughed, brushing off Zeb’s half-serious question. “I haven’t seen Rex yet; is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” said Zeb. “Last I saw him, he was regaling some of the commandos with stories from the clone wars, drunk as a monkey-lizard.”

Letting go of Zeb, Hera acknowledged Zaarin and Mikal. “The _Glimmer_ ’s up on _Home One_. You’ll have to hitch a ride up if you want to reach it for the night.”

The human and elomin exchanged glances. “Think we’ll do that,” Mikal said, politely nodding her head and backing off.

Once they were gone, Zeb dared to ask the question he really wanted an answer to. “The _Glimmer_ ’s all right? Jaci and– and Kal?”

Hera smiled. “They’re both fine. Dee-Four, too.” She looked past Zeb. “In fact, I think Kallus wanted to find you, too.”

Zeb turned, hoping that somehow, Kallus had snuck up on him, but no one was there.

When he turned back, Hera’s smile was a mischievous grin. “He’s piloting one of the shuttles going between here and _Home One_. The _Narra_.” She sobered. “Seemed to think he wouldn’t be fully welcome at the celebrations.”

Zeb couldn’t help the light growl he made. “After all this time, after all he’s done…”

“I think it’s ‘all he’s done’ that’s the problem,” Hera pointed out. “Go find him. Make him join the party. I’m headed that way myself.” She grabbed Zeb’s arm and turned him around toward the ladder.

Zeb took the hint, sliding down the ladder and out the hold. He looked at the shuttles dotting the landing pad, looking for the _Narra_.

He’d been given instructions by Hera; seeking out Kallus wasn’t purely selfish anymore.

Right?

* * *

Kallus knew he was in trouble as the _Narra_ neared the landing pad. Zeb stood in the middle of the permacrete pad, staring down Kallus’s shuttle with a singular intensity.

He waited until his passengers – bridge crew from one of Star Destroyers the Rebellion had captured and repurposed in the last year – disembarked before trying to nonchalantly saunter down the ramp himself.

All his efforts at being casual were for naught. The moment he locked eyes with Zeb, Kallus tripped, nearly falling flat on his face. He would have, in fact, if Zeb hadn’t been quick enough to catch him by the arm.

“Whoa there,” Zeb said. “You okay?”

“I am fine,” Kallus said, trying to sound certain, though a lot of that certainty went out the window as he looked up into Zeb’s face. The lasat’s expression was open, concern and care filling it beyond what Kallus deserved.

Kallus flushed and looked away, focusing on standing again. He brushed grit from his palms.

“Why aren’t you at the party?”

“Someone needed to be a shuttle pilot and I’m not a _party_ kind of person,” Kallus explained.

Zeb scoffed. “Everyone’s a party kind of person tonight.” He waved a huge hand off toward the village. “There’s drink and food and dancing and people hooking up…”

Kallus looked away, just over Zeb’s shoulder. “I was going to go back to the _Glimmer_ ,” he explained.

“Too late,” Zeb said. “Zaarin and Mikal are already on their way there and I don’t think you want to interrupt those two tonight. Might not be pretty.”

Grimacing, Kallus tried not to picture Zaarin and Mikal having sex all over his ship, though he knew they’d done it many times before. Besides, he didn’t need to be thinking about sex with Zeb standing in front of him.

Kallus knew he was tired, knew his inhibitions were down, knew his face was probably betraying the slight awe he felt any time Zeb spent time with him, but there wasn’t anything he could do to help that. “I’ll be fine,” he lied.

Zeb gave him a pitying grin for a second before his expression brightened again. “C’mon, Kal, there’s something I want you to see.”

The lasat set off without waiting to see if Kallus would follow.

Not that there was any question. Kallus would follow anywhere Zeb led.

They set off through the forest. The village could be heard long before it could be seen, the sounds of drums and flutes carrying through the darkness. As they closed in, a drunken roar joined the ruckus. 

Zeb went up some stairs that wound around a gigantic trunk, walking as if he knew exactly where he was going.

Perhaps he did. 

Kallus followed Zeb, the lasat parting the crowd before them as easily as if the people were nerf butter and he a heated blade. They made their way up, up, and up, until Kallus felt the constant stair climbing in his calves.

 _I’ve grown soft_ , he thought. _Too old, too used to turbolifts and flat spaces_. 

Zeb didn’t stop until they were at the highest reaches of the village, where mostly ewoks milled, guarding cradles and baskets with their young half-asleep in them.

Kallus followed Zeb forward to the edge of the platform, unsure if he trusted the railing to hold either – much less both – of them. The sight below was breathtaking: lit platforms scattered among the trees, torches twinkling in the night air, and everywhere Kallus looked, Rebels and ewoks dancing. He could pick out a few he knew by face or name, but most of the celebrants were strangers.

No, they were _young_ , is what they were. Kallus had gotten used to being among the Alliance High Command, where Leia Organa was the youngest member – thought the princess showed wisdom and restraint beyond her years. All the time spent with the leadership had let him forget that the backbone of the Alliance were young men, women, and beings of all sorts and species.

Rebellions ran on hope, he’d been told, but they also ran on youth and fervor. 

In Kallus’s case, they ran on resentment and spite and three day old caf and an unyielding desire to see the Empire pay for what they turned him into.

Sometimes, Kallus suspected Zeb had similar motivations, but other times he thought the lasat was much more pure, much more honest in his beliefs. Revenge for Lasan and all he lost, perhaps, but also a genuine belief that the galaxy could be a better place.

If only Kallus had that same belief.

He sighed. No, the truth was he believed the galaxy could be a better place _for beings who were not Alexsandr Kallus_. Who hadn’t been high up in the Empire, who hadn’t participated in atrocities, who’d defected earlier in their careers or never had to defect at all.

Zeb looked at him. “Pretty, ain’t it?” he asked.

Kallus almost didn’t answer, he was too distracted by the flickering light and dark dancing across Zeb’s purple fur, making it look like the stripes were moving. The wide grin and flashing fangs caught Kallus’s eye, as well.

Stars, _Zeb_ was pretty in the forest setting. He appeared an apex predator, like he was meant to be there, meant to be among the trees.

And he was, Kallus realized, his heart falling into his stomach. Lasan had been a forest planet, much like Endor, much like Kashyyyk.

And Kallus had taken that away from him.

Looking away quickly, Kallus swallowed. He didn’t want to say anything that would make Zeb think of Lasan. He didn’t want to remind Zeb of what he’d lost. What _Kallus_ and his fellow Imperials had ripped from him because they were _simply following orders_.

“Kal?”

Pasting a smile on his face, Kallus turned back to Zeb. “Yeah, it’s pretty. It’s loud, too.”

“Yeah.” Almost imperceptibly, Zeb’s hand moved along the railing toward Kallus. “But a good loud.”

“I suppose.” Kallus gripped the wood in front of him, keenly aware of the heat radiating from Zeb’s body as the night air cooled.

 _Heat_. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the retreat from Hoth. The _Glimmer_ hadn’t been there, had simply gotten the message to rendezvous at a backup location, and it was only when he saw Zeb on _Home One_ , fur wet from melted snow, still breathing heavily and keyed up from helping organize the front-line defense, that he’d realized what had happened.

What Zeb had done then had been heat of the moment, Kallus knew. It had been Zeb being thrilled to have escaped the Empire yet again, with all his crew intact. It had been the rush of battle still pulsing in his veins. It had been nothing but a brief kiss, planted on the side of Kallus’s mouth, over before he could react to it.

 _Karabast_ , Kallus wanted it to have meant more than it had. He wanted to be able to kiss Zeb now, in more than just the heat of the moment. He wanted to kiss Zeb and have his feelings returned, to not care who in the Rebellion saw them together on this of all nights.

It couldn’t happen, however. Kallus couldn’t let himself get too close, else he would hurt Zeb again. He wasn’t sure _how_ that would happen, but he knew it would.

It was what he did, in the end: hurt people. Either his intelligence or his missions or his past or even just his attitude caused irreparable harm everywhere he went.

All Kallus could do was work to make sure he didn’t purposefully hurt anyone. He couldn’t change his nature, couldn’t be the good man Zeb deserved, but he could alleviate the harm somewhat.

Zeb’s hand moved closer, millimeter by millimeter. It was almost as if Zeb _wanted_ to touch Kallus.

Kallus’s gut told him that he should leave, if he truly wanted what was best for Zeb.

Kallus’s heart cried out to stay, to loop even just his little finger around one of Zeb’s.

“Ya know what else is pretty?” Zeb asked, already gravelly voice dropping even lower and _doing things_ to Kallus’s insides.

Licking his lips, Kallus very carefully did not look at Zeb. “What’s that?”

“You are.”

Kallus couldn’t stop himself; he turned his head in shock, just in time for Zeb to lean in and catch him in another kiss.

* * *

This kiss was better than the first one, Zeb thought. He’d actually landed on Kallus’s lips and from the moaning noise Kallus made, it was a welcome move. It was a little awkward figuring out how to fit their mouths together despite the size difference, but they found a good solution only moments into the kiss.

Behind them, the ewoks chittered, but Zeb ignored them, reaching out to pull Kallus in. He dared to let himself hope that Kallus wanted this as much as he did, even if it just was the rush of adrenaline from battle.

Zeb would take whatever he could get. 

Kallus broke the kiss and pulled back. “Zeb,” he sputtered, sounding almost scandalized.

Zeb’s heart fell. “Sorry,” he said. “Shouldn’ta done that. You aren’t interested.”

Brow knitting into a frown, Kallus looked down at Zeb’s hands, still on the human’s waist. Kallus picked up his hands and held them gently. Zeb started to pull them back, but Kallus hung on.

“The problem isn’t interest,” Kallus said after a long silence. “The problem is all the ways I’ve hurt you and all the ways I’ve yet to hurt you.”

Zeb echoed the frown. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Zeb.” Kallus gave him a frustrated look. “You know what I mean.”

Okay, so Zeb knew what Kallus meant by ways he’d hurt Zeb. There was the participation in Lasan and the couple years of hunting the Spectres down and assisting in torturing Kanan.

Hard things, to be sure, but things Zeb was willing to forgive because Kallus had turned around so completely. Kallus _wasn’t_ ISB-021 anymore, not by a long shot. He was a Rebel now, heart and soul and Zeb found that entrancing. 

There, in front of him, was a being who saw him as an equal from the start – even if it was as equally matched enemies – and who treated him with consideration. Who’d apologized. Who’d moved forward and done a kriffing lot of good with his life.

“No,” Zeb said firmly. “I don’t. You’re _going_ to hurt me? Are you planning something?”

“It’s what I d–”

Zeb cut him off. “Wrong. What you _do_ are missions for the Alliance that help keep the rest of us alive. I’ve known you for nine years, Kal, and six of those you’ve been a _good_ man.”

Kallus huffed. “Six years, out of thirty-nine.”

“C’mon,” Zeb said. “You weren’t doing bad stuff as a kid. You were survivin’ at home and then you were survivin’ at school. So that’s like… another sixteen years or so.”

Kallus eyed him but didn’t argue. “Twenty-two years, then. And that still leaves seventeen years I was actively serving the interests of the Empire. Even when I was first Fulcrum, I had to do things that would make you abhor me.”

Well, that was _shavit_. Zeb rested a hand on Kallus’s shoulder, his thumb lightly caressing the human’s collarbone. “Kal,” he sighed.

“Zeb,” Kallus replied, the word almost a whine. “I don’t want to hurt you any more, even accidentally. Haven’t I done enough harm?”

“Haven’t you done enough good?” Zeb countered.

“No.” The answer was short and succinct.

And absolutely wrong. Time to approach things a little differently.

“Hera said you were lookin’ for me, but you were in that shuttle. Were you lookin’ or were you avoidin’?”

Kallus’s guilty face was answer enough.

Zeb squeezed the other man’s shoulder, resting his thumb against the pulse point of the human’s neck. “We’ve only seen each other a few times since Hoth. Have you been avoidin’ me all this time?”

“I–”

Zeb snarled. “You were. You’ve been avoiding me because you want to forget that kiss ever happened, even if it was just _me_ kissin’ _you_ , not both of us kissin’ the other.” He dropped his hand. “Kal, if you don’t like me that way, you just have to say. But don’t do this to _protect_ me from something.”

“I’m not trying to protect you!” Kallus said, but his argument was weak.

“Yeah, you are,” Zeb said, feeling heated. “All this time, I thought you treated me as an equal but you’re as bad as the others, aren’t you? At least they treat me like the dumb muscle to my face. You made me think I was different when all along you actually think I need to be coddled because of my past.”

He turned his back on the party below, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Kallus was blessedly silent.

Zeb decided to lay his cards on the table. He’d always been terrible at sabacc, at least when playing for any real stakes, but maybe this time he wouldn’t lose.

“I _like_ you, Kal. I like the way you make me feel about myself: like I don’t _need_ to be pitied or overlooked. You make me feel like I matter.” Zeb rubbed his brow. “But if that’s not the truth, then tell me now, if you’re so keen not to hurt me. Tell me if you just want to stay friends, if you don’t want to hurt me. But don’t hurt me and tell me it’s for my own good!”

Kallus was silent for a moment. Below them, the party hit another rise. Zeb supposed yet another hero of the Rebellion was being toasted, but there was only one Rebel he cared about at the moment.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology shocked Zeb into looking at Kallus. The human’s eyes were downcast, staring at the platform underneath their feet. “Sorry for what?” Zeb asked.

Kallus lifted his face, looking Zeb in the eyes. Zeb had been right earlier; in this light, Kallus’s eyes were dark and alluring. “I’m sorry you feel hurt by what I’ve said.”

Zeb shook his head. “You’re purposefully misunderstanding me.”

“I’m not trying to!” Kallus argued.

“But you are,” Zeb said. “Kal, do you like me as more than a friend: yes or no?”

Kallus scoffed. “What? Zeb, we aren’t schoolchildren passing notes to each other’s datapads.”

“No, we’re not,” Zeb agreed, feeling defensive. “That’s why I’m asking you this stuff straight out. We haven’t seen each other much since you got the _Glimmer_. Has that been by accident or design?”

Kallus turned back to the party, still standing shoulder to shoulder with Zeb. “You’re drunk.”

Zeb’s eyes narrowed. He almost turned around as well, but kept his position watching the little ewoks – kits? Cubs? Ewoklings? What were they called? “I’ve had somethin’ to drink, yeah, but you’re not answerin’ my questions.” He bit his lip. “An’ if you don’t answer, I’m gettin’ more to drink and leavin’ you alone. For good.”

Zeb swiveled an ear to focus on Kallus, listening for a hitch in his breath or an inhale that might mean he was about to say something.

All he heard was the revelry below them.

 _Right, then_. Zeb straightened. “Fine. G’bye then, Kal. Good luck.”

“Wait.”

Zeb stopped mid-step, that one word all he’d wanted to hear. “I’m waiting,” he said, not daring to face Kallus.

“Give me a moment to find my words,” Kallus said.

“‘Find your words’? You’re the most eloquent _vo’arik_ I know,” Zeb said warily.

Kallus gulped. “I can command ships with ease. I can talk my way out of many sticky situations. I even managed to keep being a verbal thorn in Thrawn’s side after he tortured me. But what you’re asking…” A sigh. “This is different, Zeb.”

“It shouldn’t be. It should be as easy as breathin’.”

“Not for me.” 

Zeb turned then and was shocked to see the shine of tears in the human’s eyes.

“I’m good because of what I _do_ , not because of what I _am_ ,” Kallus explained. “I’m a selfish bastard. I’ve participated in horrors, some of which directly affected you, and I did so happily.”

“But–” 

“Stop. Let me talk.” Kallus stood up straight, the torchlight making his face look haunted and hollow. “It shouldn’t matter how I feel about you, Zeb, because you deserve so much better than me – as a friend or anything more.”

Zeb picked up on one word in that jumble of bantha shit. “Shouldn’t?”

Kallus’s shoulders slumped. “It shouldn’t, but like I said, I’m selfish. I _want you_. I want to tell you how much I adore you and I want to hear it back.” He looked back up at Zeb. “I want to kiss you again, properly. But I _can’t_. Don’t you see?”

Taking a step closer, Zeb growled, “No, I don’t.”

“I have to give up what I want – give _you_ up – so that you can be happy with someone who deserves you.”

“You’ve been avoidin’ me because of that?” Zeb stepped forward again, stopping just in front of Kallus, who held his ground. “Kal, in all this thinkin’ you did, did you ever stop to think about what _I_ want? What I deserve?”

Kallus looked offended. “Yes! That’s all I’ve thought about!”

“No. You’ve thought about what _you_ think I should want. Not what I actually want.”

That seemed to startle Kallus.

“Because what I actually want is standin’ in front of me, bein’ an– an obtuse laserbrain!”

“You shouldn’t–”

Zeb growled, low and menacing. “Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, Alexsandr Kallus.”

“I’m just trying to make sure I don’t hurt you more!” For a second, Zeb thought Kallus would take a step back, but he just tilted his chin up a bit more.

“You’re hurtin’ me by bein’ an idiot. By not givin’ me what I want when I can tell you want it, too.” Zeb used two fingers to lift Kallus’s chin even more, leaning in until they were a hair’s breadth away. “If you want me, Kal, then _take me_. Tonight of all kriffin’ nights, let yourself live a little.”

Kallus’s eyelids fluttered closed and he closed the millimeter between them, lips touching Zeb’s in a deliciously soft manner.

Zeb grunted and pressed in, seeking more. His hand snuck around, winding fingers through Kallus’s soft hair and holding him still.

With a guttural groan, Kallus opened his mouth to Zeb, small, smooth tongue darting out and tasting his lips.

Zeb returned the gesture, reveling in the almost sweet taste of human – or was the berry liquor still on his tongue? Not that it mattered, Zeb was getting what he wanted and it didn’t matter what Kallus tasted like because he would always taste _right_.

Kallus pulled back just far enough to brush their cheeks together – and where had he learned _that_? – and nip at the base of Zeb’s ear. “If you really mean it, then… where? _Glimmer_ ’s taken.”

Thinking through the haze in his mind was getting more difficult as Kallus kissed his way down Zeb’s jaw. “ _Ghost_ ’s out. Hera’d kill me if we woke her.”

He felt Kallus grin against his chin. “And you can’t be quiet?”

“If it’s you?” Zeb asked, speaking honestly. “No, I can’t.”

Kallus slid hands down Zeb’s side, coming to rest on his hips. “I like that,” he said. “But that doesn’t help us decide what to do. I don’t fancy doing it out in the open.”

“Not an exhibitionist?” Zeb leered, even though he wasn’t one either. He looked around, desperate for some solution. He was just getting ready to say _kriff it_ and face Hera’s wrath when he felt a soft tug at his belt.

An ewok stood there, gray with dark stripes not too unlike a lasat’s. They motioned for Zeb to follow.

Zeb exchanged glances with Kallus, who shrugged. Taking firm hold of Kallus’s hand, Zeb followed the ewok.

They wound even higher in the trees, until they were well above the party. Kallus stumbled a few times in the near complete darkness, but Zeb caught him each and every time.

The ewok stopped outside a dark door and pointed inside. Trusting that the little bugger wasn’t going to push them out of the trees, Zeb stepped through and let his eyes adjust.

They were in a small house, it seemed. Zeb made out the accoutrements of a kitchen and a bedroom with a tiny bed. There was no way either he or Kallus could fit on the bed, but there _was_ floor room and privacy.

 _Well._ This would just have to do. “Thank you,” he said to the ewok, unsure if they understood him or not. They nodded and left.

Kallus wrapped arms around Zeb’s waist. “Where are we?” he whispered.

Zeb described what he saw, holding one of Kallus’s hands in his own as he pointed out where everything was. “There’s floor space in the bedroom if we lay down pillows and blankets.”

“Good,” Kallus said. “Take me there so I can _take you_. Since you were so insistent.”

An anticipatory chill ran up Zeb’s spine. “Please,” he said, almost a whimper.

He’d been waiting for this for so long, he wanted to enjoy every second of it.

* * *

Sunlight shone through small windows and between the sticks that made up the walls of the ewok hut.

Kallus didn’t move right away upon waking, though. He was comfortable, back against something warm and soft, that same heavy blanket wrapped around his waist.

No, not a blanket. _Zeb_.

Kallus stiffened. He’d let Zeb talk him into sleeping together, hadn’t he?

The bad part was that it had been _wonderful_. How was Kallus going to let go now that he knew what he was missing out on?

“You better not be thinking of leaving,” Zeb muttered, hot breath fluttering the hair on Kallus’s neck.

“I wasn’t,” Kallus said truthfully. _Not yet, at least_.

“Good, because I’ve been thinking.”

Kallus couldn’t help the soft smile that formed. “You’ve been awake long enough to be thinking?”

“Mm-hm,” Zeb hummed. “I gotta proposition for you.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow even though Zeb couldn’t see. “And what is your _proposition_?”

“Let’s retire.”

“The war’s not over,” Kallus pointed out. “We struck a decisive blow, but–”

“But nothin’. I’m getting close to fifty. You’re almost forty. Let’s leave the end of the war to the kids. There’s plenty of ‘em and they’re smart. They got this without us.”

“But–”

Kallus felt himself be forcibly rolled on his back. He stared up into bright green eyes. “I’m quittin’,” Zeb said. “Decided that. I’m done. Been fightin’ ever since Lasan. I wanna go live in peace.”

 _In peace. On Lira San, with the other lasat_ , Kallus thought. Zeb had told him about the mythical world, but he’d never seen it. That was another reason he’d been so hesitant to start anything with Zeb; when it was all over, Zeb would inevitably want to be with the others of his kind and where would that leave Kallus?

Alone again.

Perhaps as it should be.

“Come with me,” Zeb said, to Kallus’s shock.

“I can’t,” he pointed out. “I’m not lasat and anyway, no one on Lira San wants me around.”

Zeb gently ran a thumb along Kallus’s cheekbone, the fur of his fingers stiff and short and sensitive. “ _I_ want you around.”

Kallus closed his eyes again. “There’s so much more I can do here,” he tried again. “I’m still Fulcrum.”

“And what do you do that someone younger can’t? Give the _Glimmer_ to Jaci, if you want. She’s clever. She’ll keep the Fulcrum missions going.”

“I–” Kallus paused. “I was thinking of purchasing the _Glimmer_ from the Rebellion when this was all over. And it’s not over yet.”

“You’ve got those kinds of credits?” Zeb asked.

“I’ve still got a lot of accounts from my ISB days,” Kallus said. “Different names, different currencies. Thought I’d buy the _Glimmer_ and be a spacer or something.”

Zeb frowned. “So you don’t want to settle down somewhere?”

Kallus laughed desperately. “Zeb, what planet would have me? It’s best I stay on the move, a citizen of nowhere.”

With a soft growl, Zeb pressed a hand into Kallus’s chest, getting his complete attention. “I’m telling you, you’ll be welcome on Lira San. Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe _you_ want me there,” Kallus said honestly. “But what about the other refugees from Lasan? Would they welcome someone like me?”

Zeb sighed. “If I got the others to agree to you living with us, would you come?”

Kallus fell silent, thinking. Part of him didn’t want to quit fighting – he still needed to atone for his evils – but he recognized that he might never feel like he’d fought enough, even if the war ended and peace fell. What would he do then?

And here was Zeb, offering a home and acceptance and–

–and affection, probably. 

All the things Kallus never thought he’d get. All the things he’d secretly wanted.

“If,” he started. “ _If_ the other refugees agree to allow me in, then I will come with you, Garazeb Orrelios.”

“Mmkay,” Zeb said, nuzzling at Kallus’s neck again. “Pack your bags.”

Kallus allowed himself to smile, fingers winding into the soft fur on Zeb’s back as the lasat leaned over him.

Maybe, just maybe, there was such thing as a home for him out there in the galaxy.

A home for them both.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Used more Lasana from Anath_Tsurugi!
> 
>  _eshev an_ is 'thank you'  
>  _Arkesana_ is 'spiritual leader'

“May I look _yet_?” Kallus grumbled. His impatient huff tickled the exposed fur of Zeb’s palm.

Zeb didn’t twitch, keeping Kallus’s eyes covered as the Rebellion frigate dropped out of hyperspace above Lira San. An irrepressible grin spread across his face at the sight of the yellow planet and nebular clouds. A small shuttle floated in space before them. “Nope,” he said. “Gotta wait, like I said.”

One of the communication stations pinged. “Sir, shuttle _Nalmar_ requesting docking permission, Commander Orrelios.”

“Tell ‘em it’s granted,” Zeb replied. _Nalmar_ , that’d be Chava and the receiving committee, just like he’d arranged. “Land ‘em and get ‘em up here.”

Beneath his hand, Kallus frowned. “Don’t tell me I have to wait for whoever this is.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Zeb said, softly so only Kallus could hear. He watched the communications officer, waiting for the news that Chava and her group were on the way up.

He finally got the nod.

“Okay, Kal. Ready?”

A huff was his only answer.

“Welcome to Lira San.” Zeb removed his hand from Kallus’s face, but it took another moment for the human to open his eyes.

The look on Kallus’s face was worth every bit of grumbling and complaining that Zeb had put up with so far. Amber eyes opened wide in shock, as did Kallus’s mouth, an expression of open surprise Zeb almost never got to see.

Kallus took a few steps forward, walking slowly as if he was dreaming. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Zeb said, heart swelling. “Just wait ‘til you get to the surface.”

The bridge door _whoosh_ ed open behind them. Both men turned to see Chava, Gron, and two lasat Zeb didn’t recognize.

Zeb wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulder and the human turned into Zeb’s chest.

“Welcome home, Child. Welcome home, Warrior,” said Chava, waving a hand in the air.

“See?” said Zeb. “I told you there was a place for you here.” _With me_.

The four lasat entered the bridge and the frigate’s crew busied themselves, pretending not to listen.

Chava stepped forward, leaning on her staff. “ _Ambassador_ Orrelios.”

 _Oh yeah_. Zeb had almost let himself forget the brand new Alliance government’s request when he and Kallus resigned their commissions: be their liaison to the hidden world of Lira San. Coax them into joining the New Republic once the Empire was defeated forever. It was why they’d sent them on a frigate instead of letting them just disappear with the _Glimmer_.

He was no diplomat, but there really wasn’t anyone else who would be as familiar with lasat culture and values.

Without moving his arm from around Kallus’s shoulders, Zeb used his free hand to scratch at his neck nervously. Hopefully the New Republic hadn’t made a mistake trusting him.

“Kal, this is Chava,” Zeb said, introducing the others in turn. “An’ this is Alexsandr Kallus.” _The human I want to be my mate_.

It’d been a month since Endor and there hadn’t been a repeat of that night: neither the sex nor the actual communication. They’d laid their feelings on the line, but neither of them knew where to go next.

So, while Zeb helped Hera get settled into her new role as an official Defense Force general, Kallus wrapped up his Fulcrum missions, saw his crew either retire or move on to new and better positions, and collected the credits to buy the _Glimmer of Hope_.

Zeb thought the leadership would have given it to him, if he’d just asked. But Alexsandr Kallus didn’t ask for what he wanted, did he?

In all honesty, the two days’ journey from Chandrila to Lira San had been the most they’d seen each other since parting ways on Endor. Unfortunately for Zeb, it’d been a fairly awkward journey. 

Oh, sure, it was easy to be around Kallus, perhaps a little more so since they’d slept together and burned off some of the tension. But Kallus held back still and therefore so did Zeb. They deftly avoided talking about Endor, except to finally swap battle stories. They not-so-deftly avoided talk of just what it was they had between them.

If it was anything at all.

“Welcome to Lira San, Warrior Alexsandr,” Chava said, bringing Zeb back to the present.

Kallus shifted uncomfortably beneath Zeb’s arm, but he responded politely. He gave Chava a little bow, one hand covering the other fist, and said – in an absolutely atrocious accent – “ _Eshev an_.”

He’d drilled Zeb on those words for hours on the first day of the trip. Zeb had avoided teaching Kallus any Lasana thinking it would be better for him to learn the variant spoken on Lira San first, but Kallus insisted on knowing how to say _thank you_.

Frankly, it was endearing to see Kallus so determined to be properly grateful. Zeb gave Kallus’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go and echoing the gesture.

Chava nodded approvingly. “The prophecy continues. The Warrior and Child return home.”

Zeb fought an eyeroll. It seemed there was a new part to the prophecy every time he saw Chava and he gave serious credence to the idea that she was making it all up as she went along.

“Or are you the Fool today?” she asked, peering at Zeb.

He sighed. “Good to see you, too, Chava.”

She pounded her staff against the floor twice. “Well, let us go. Your presence is requested at the palace.”

“The palace? Already?” Zeb heard the whine in his own voice but couldn’t stop it. Two days traveling on an unfamiliar ship had left him ready to go see the homes Chava had promised would be waiting for them.

“Duty comes first, Garazeb,” she said. “Or have you forgotten that you are not yet officially invited to stay on Lira San?”

Beside him, Kallus tensed.

“Ceremonial sort of thing,” Zeb said quickly. “Right?”

The other lasat nodded. “You’ll tell her your story and the Queen will offer you formal citizenship,” explained Gron.

Well, Kallus was bound to find _that_ stressful, but there was nothing for it. Zeb had already told both their histories when he’d first inquired about bringing Kallus with him – since there were no sentient species other than lasat on Lira San, his presence would be an anomaly – so it wasn’t like there were going to be any surprises. He’d just have to reassure Kallus of his welcome on the trip down to the surface.

“We’ve got our own ship,” Zeb said. “Well, he does. We’ll follow you?”

“I will come with you,” Chava said.

 _Great_. Zeb had hoped the trip to the surface would be a chance for him to talk to Kallus in private.

About… something. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but he’d have figured it out. It felt important.

It felt like Chava was intruding and Zeb would bet good credits that she knew it, too.

“Let us go!” she said.

Zeb and Kallus looked at each other, Kallus shrugging slightly.

Locating the bridge crew’s first mate, Zeb motioned him over. “Once the _Glimmer_ and the shuttle are clear, you’re to return to Chandrila.”

The human nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Zeb almost corrected him – _not military anymore, kid, just a civilian_ – but held his tongue. “Ship’s yours, then.”

He and Kallus followed Chava’s group slowly to the upper hangar, all the while half-listening to Chava chatter about Lira San. None of it was new to Zeb, who’d ferried multiple lasat refugees to the planet over the past few years. He’d tried to relay that information to Kallus during their journey, but Kallus listened to Chava raptly as if he’d never heard any of it.

Kallus settled into the captain’s chair of the _Glimmer_ – freshly repainted to look like a civilian vessel, not a military freighter with kill counts by the main viewport – with a practiced ease. It was obvious he cared for the ship, nearly as much as Hera did the _Ghost_ , if such a thing were possible.

Zeb settled in behind Kallus, watching his shoulders work as he brought the ship to life and launched her.

A melancholic thought hit him: this was not the same Alexsandr Kallus who’d helped them liberate Lothal. It wasn’t even the same Kallus he’d slept with a month before. But then again, he wasn’t the same Zeb, was he? They weren’t in the fight any more. They weren’t soldiers any more. They had peace to look forward to.

Well, peace and Zeb’s clumsy attempts at diplomacy.

“Do you have coordinates or are we visually following the shuttle?” Kallus asked.

Chava glanced at Zeb.

“I’m not breaking out my bo-rifle,” he grumped. “Not when we can _see_ the planet.”

She laughed and produced a datastick. “The coordinates for Liashka are here.”

“Liashka,” Kallus said. “The capital city, right?”

“The _royal_ city,” Chava clarified. “You will find no spaceports to fit this ship there, not anymore.”

“Oh? So where are we to land?” Zeb could _hear_ Kallus’s raised eyebrow.

“They have cleared a spot.”

“Gonna need a spaceport,” Zeb said. “When I’m through.”

Neither Kallus nor Chava said anything.

“Great,” Zeb said. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“You have not learned Lira San history, Child.”

Zeb sighed. “Will you stop calling me that? I haven’t had a _chance_ to learn it.” _I was fighting a war to keep **you** safe_.

“Millennia ago, the lasat were starfarers, explorers of new worlds, sending colonies out in all directions, led by their bo-rifles. One such colony was Lasan.” Chava waved her hand to encompass Lira San and the star cluster behind them. “But when the stars collapsed, Lira San found herself cut off from her colonies and the galaxy. She looked inward from then on.”

“So what happened to the other colonies?” Zeb asked. 

“Still out there, perhaps. Perhaps gone, devoured by the Unknown Regions long ago.”

Kallus nodded at the shuttle they were following. “That’s not a standard shuttle, so I presume it’s of Lira San design. Obviously they kept some spacefaring technology.”

“Very good!” Chava smiled and Zeb heard the unspoken ‘ _you should have caught that._ ’ He frowned. “They mine the worlds around them for precious metals and stones and gases. All space travel is within the system.”

“So there _are_ spaceports,” Zeb said, a little elated that he caught Chava in what appeared to be a fallacy.

“For small shuttles,” she pointed out. “Not for the _Ollirand Kasmera_.”

Kallus nodded, taking the use of the _Glimmer_ ’s Lasana name in stride. “It will be interesting to see how technology has changed – or not – over the years Lira San has been isolated, then.”

Zeb huffed. Trust Kallus to take an academic interest in things.

The _Glimmer_ shuddered as it crossed into Lira San’s atmosphere, the yellow clouds parting around them to reveal a world painted in color: green and blue and red and orange and some purples scattered around.

On Zeb’s first visit, he’d been surprised to find that the largest trees were relatives of Lasan’s own olimilau trees, the big ones towns were built into. He supposed those first settlers must have brought seeds with them.

The colors resolved into fields and forests, lakes and oceans, the night-covered lands dotted with the lights of cities and towns.

The shuttle aimed unerringly toward the largest light, just on the day-night border. Liashka, Zeb guessed.

The city was sprawling, more wide than tall, arrayed around a palace of green and gold. Chava directed Kallus to land on a lawn near the palace, where a small crowd had gathered. The lawn was well-lit and as Kallus shut down the ship, Zeb marveled at the sheer number and variety of lasat he was seeing.

On Lasan, lasat came in two varieties: tan and purple, though sometimes there were tan lasat with purple stripes or the other way ‘round. On Lira San, the lasat were not only purple and tan, but blue and dark brown and a rusty red.

Chava’s staff whacked him across his back. “Come on, Captain Orrelios!”

Grumbling again – he found he did that a lot when Chava was involved – he followed her off the ship, stopping only to make sure Kallus was coming as well.

Zeb could tell when Kallus came into view off the ramp; a murmur ran through the gathered lasat.

A man, obviously an Honor Guard – or whatever the Lira San equivalent was – met them at the bottom of the ramp. Zeb found himself straightening, calling back the old Captain of the High Honor Guard stance and bearing.

The guard met them with a small bow directed toward Chava. “The queen awaits your presence,” he said in halting Basic.

Meeting royalty didn’t stress Zeb. He’d worked in close contact with the Queen and her family on Lasan, personally arranging their security, taking direction, and providing tactical advice when necessary. But entering the palace almost made him turn around and hide in the _Glimmer_.

It was so like the Lasan palace that it hurt. The stone walls – reddish marble, not gray slate – were covered with vines and flowering plants, fountains and carvings, while birds and insects flitted around. It was a picture of life itself, the planet’s beauty encapsulated in a building.

Heart aching for Lasan, Zeb picked up his step and tried to follow the guard without looking around.

They were brought not to a court, hall, or receiving room. Instead, the guard took them to a walled garden; a small, intimate setting that was probably usually reserved for the royal family itself.

Just like on Lasan.

A woman younger than Zeb himself waited for them, five small kits of varying age playing at her feet. She rose to greet them.

“Queen Kirahan,” announced the guard. “I present Chava the Wise of Lasan, Ambassador Garazeb Orrelios of the New Republic, and Alexsandr Kallus of–”

“Nowhere,” Kallus said quietly, cutting off the guard.

The queen nodded to Chava, who smiled and bent down to greet the kits, leaning on her staff for support.

“Ambassador,” the queen said, in much smoother Basic, “I understand you were once _Captain_ Orrelios.”

“A long time ago,” Zeb said. “I was honored with that position when I was not quite twenty-four Standard years. Uh, sixty-seven dust seasons in our reckoning.”

“I’m familiar with your dust seasons,” she said graciously. “You’ll find our years are much more similar to the Standard measure.”

Zeb nodded, unsure of what to say.

“You’re the one who fulfilled the prophecy to reunite our peoples?” the queen asked.

“I’ve been told I was, as was my companion,” Zeb said, gesturing to Kallus, who seemed to be trying to blend into the background. It was a futile effort; as a human, he was fated to stand out wherever he went on Lira San. “I was never one to study prophecy.”

Chava huffed a laugh.

“No, you were a warrior. You’ve _been_ a warrior for so long it’s all you know, I think.”

Zeb’s eyes widened at the queen's assessment of him.

The queen smiled. “I have heard of many of your exploits from the refugees you’ve brought to us. Daring rescues from this destructive Empire, part of a crew of heroes risking their lives to bring our people home.”

Zeb resisted the urge to nervously scratch at his neck. “I wouldn’t call us heroes,” he said.

“No hero would.” The queen motioned to a nearby servant and chairs were brought forth. “Sit, please. I would like to talk to you both before we get you settled into your new home.”

Chava was dismissed along with the kits, leaving Zeb and Kallus alone with the queen.

She took a seat and they followed suit. For the first time, her attention turned to Kallus. “I have heard Ambassador Orrelios’s history from his fellow lasat, but you are a near stranger, beyond being the Warrior of legend. Might I ask a bit about your life and doings?”

Kallus blanched but nodded curtly. “Yes, si– ma’am. I will answer any questions you have.”

The queen smiled softly again. “I am aware of your history with the Empire and Lasan, thanks to Chava, but I have not heard of your journey since then. How did you come to Lira San, so eagerly sponsored by the ambassador, who must have once been your enemy?”

Kallus glanced at Zeb, who gave him an encouraging grin. “It’s because of Zeb – Garazeb, my apologies – that I came to question my beliefs in the Empire,” he said. “He showed me kindness and mercy when he had no reason to do so. He was honorable and assisted me when I might have left him to die had I been in his position. He pushed me to ask questions that had no satisfying answers rather than taking them for granted. My defection was hardly of my own design.”

 _It was_ , Zeb wanted to argue, but he bit his tongue. _You were the one who followed through. I didn’t see you again until after you’d become Fulcrum. All I did was nudge you along the path; you did the hard parts yourself_.

“I became a spy, first, then was rescued by Garazeb and his fellow crew members after I made one mistake too many and got caught. After that, I have served the Rebellion – now the New Republic – in various ways, but mostly as Fulcrum, an active agent with a crew of my own. The ship we arrived on, the _Ollirand Kasmera_ , was my command.”

It was all a true recollection, but Zeb noted that Kallus was downplaying his efforts when possible. He wanted to speak up for Kallus, to expound upon his achievements, to brag about what he brought to the Rebellion, what he cost the Empire, but Zeb knew his place. He shouldn’t interrupt in the presence of the queen and, perhaps most importantly, he should let Kallus find pride in his accomplishments in his own time.

The queen drove the conversation, mostly asking about the Rebellion and the state of things in the greater galaxy, for over two hours. No one interrupted the conversation, even as servants brought plates of fruits and pastries for snacking.

Zeb dared to try the unfamiliar fruits, knowing the importance of hospitality on Lasan. He couldn’t quite describe the tastes except to say they were tart and delicious and Jacen would probably love them. Kallus, on the other hand, refrained from eating anything, sitting stiffly while he answered questions.

As the sun began to set, the queen finally motioned for Zeb to stop talking. “We will continue this later, if you like,” she said. “But for now, I wish to welcome you to Lira San, Garazeb Orrelios, and offer you citizenship here.”

 _Citizenship_. A permanent home, among the lasat people. Even after discovering Lira San, after rediscovering himself, he still hadn’t let himself fully believe he would get to live in a lasat culture again.

“Yes,” he said gratefully. “I would like that.”

The queen looked at Kallus, her expression betraying a little sadness. “As you are not lasat, I cannot offer you citizenship, Alexsandr Kallus, but I do offer our hospitality. As long as you wish, you are welcome here.”

Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said, voice tight. “That’s more than I could have expected.”

Clasping her hands together, the queen stood again. “I hope you find our accommodations to your liking. I’ll have one of the Guard take you to the community we’ve built for the Lasan refugees.”

Zeb stood and bowed again, giving her the Honor Guard salute as he did so. He stayed that way until the queen left and the guard returned.

“Come,” the guard said. “We have a speeder waiting for you.”

Or at least that’s what Zeb assumed he said. The word he used for ‘speeder’ was an unfamiliar one, spoken in Lira Sana, or whatever the language was called here. 

Zeb’s hunch turned out to be right; they were allowed to pack their things from the _Glimmer,_ loaded onto a wheeled vehicle and driven off, out of the city. He sat in silence, watching out the window, one hand on the bench seat between Kallus and himself.

Just in case.

* * *

The ride through Liashka and into the countryside left Kallus awed, a rare emotion for him. He’d visited some planets, such as Naboo, where aesthetics were prized in architecture, but he’d never seen anything like the Lira San capital. Not even his vague memories of Lasan compared; there, he’d been assigned to some small forest town, not a large city.

And, to be fair, he hadn’t been there to notice the architecture.

In Liashka, vibrant colors decorated buildings and lasat both. The buildings, many stories tall, were built on a larger scale than Kallus was used to: higher ceilings and wider doors seemed more welcoming than any he’d seen in the rest of the galaxy. Dotting the outside of buildings were wide windows and staircases. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he imagined the rounded planks must be easier for prehensile feet to grasp than the flat steps humans preferred. What else was different from the galactic norm on Lira San?

The city slowly died out, suburbs stretching for miles, but they passed those, too. Groves of trees lined the road, the sinking sun peeking through the trunks and branches. Some of the trees were absolutely enormous, spanning meters in diameter and disappearing into the sky. Others were even more impressive to Kallus – smaller trees covered in brightly colored bark that seemed to morph into new shades as the winds whipped around them. Red-tipped grasses filled the spaces between trees.

It was a feast for Kallus’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine _living_ in such a beautiful place, but he’d been invited to. Would he ever look out at the majesty of this planet and find it mundane?

He hoped not.

Nearly an hour after they left the palace, the speeder took a turn into a copse of the larger trees and Kallus noticed houses of all sizes built around and up into the trees. Some had entryways on the ground, others began further up the trees, but all seemed highly organic, built of reddish wood matching the trees they surrounded, rounded corners predominating.

This settlement was much more like what he’d seen on Lasan. Endor, as well, just built to accommodate beings taller than two meters.

The speeder stopped in front of one house, about four meters off the ground with a stairway winding around the tree leading to the front door. Kallus wondered which of them was to live there.

It took him a second to realize that all their belongings were being unloaded from the speeder’s trunk. “Wait, we’re _both_ here?” he asked.

Zeb frowned slightly. “Looks like,” he said in a tone Kallus couldn’t quite decipher.

Without waiting for further comment, Zeb got out and circled the speeder, speaking to the guard as he did so.

Kallus followed suit, stretching a bit as he untucked himself from the cramped speeder. Looking around, he noticed they had an audience; lasat were standing on porches and gathering in front of houses, watching the newcomers. A few made their way over.

It certainly wasn’t the quiet reception Kallus had hoped for, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

“Captain Orrelios, do you need help carrying those?” asked one lasat.

“Uh, no,” Zeb said, looking around to find the speaker. “I think we got it. Not much stuff, anyway.”

A child – a kit, Kallus corrected himself – broke free of her mother and ran toward him, skidding to a stop just before ramming into his legs. She spoke in a language Kallus didn’t know; thought it had the sound of Lasana. Perhaps it was the Lira San variant.

He shook his head at the girl. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Are you the Warrior?” the kit repeated in Basic. “The spy Fulcrum?”

Giving Zeb a desperate look, Kallus found no help; Zeb was distracted talking to another of their new neighbors. “Yes, I am,” he said, answering the kit’s questions.

The kit’s eyes widened. “ _Wow_ ,” she said. She put her hands on her hips. “You’re gonna have to learn Lira Sana. My adan is making me learn it. Says we live here now, so we can’t use Basic.”

Kallus didn’t quite know how to take a lecture from a kit. “I suppose you’re right. However, I just arrived, so I haven’t learned any yet.” He frowned. “How do you know who I am?”

The kit rolled her eyes. “What other human is gonna be here?” she asked. “ _Arkesana_ Chava told us all about you.”

“Did she?” Kallus sincerely hoped not. Kits didn’t need to know _all_ about him.

“Kal!” Zeb called and Kallus noticed he was halfway up the stairway. “You comin’?”

“I’ll be right there,” Kallus said. He looked at the kit again. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

She nodded, but didn’t move.

Hoping he wasn’t missing out on some major social cue, Kallus activated the repulsors on the two crates of his belongings. He felt decadent; for twenty or so years, he’d lived out of a single trunk, smaller than one of these crates, but after gaining the _Glimmer_ as a home base, he’d allowed himself to acquire more _things_.

The crates floated easily up the stairs and into the house, which was already furnished. The wooden furniture looked hand-hewn, with thick pillows covering every seat and chair back. For all the rustic appearance, Kallus spotted familiar technology in the kitchen and what appeared to be facial recognition locks. There was no fireplace – which made sense for a wooden house, he supposed – but he spotted temperature controls on the wall in the hall.

The very _short_ hall. Zeb stopped quickly in front of him, looking around. “Karabast,” he said softly.

“What is it?” Kallus asked, instinctively going on alert. They were alone in the house as the guard had stayed by the speeder, or so he thought. Perhaps he’d gotten it wrong.

“There’s only one bedroom.” Zeb’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t tell them– I don’t know why they thought– Probably Chava getting it wrong.”

Kallus’s throat tightened. One bedroom? “One bed?” he asked, just to clarify.

“One bed, yeah.”

“Right.” While part of Kallus wanted desperately to share a bed with Zeb again, the lasat hadn’t said anything to indicate he wanted to continue what they started on Endor. “I’ll take the couch. I’ll be more comfortable than you there.”

Zeb sighed. “Nah. No sense in that when the bed pit’s big enough. It’s just, uh, different from what you’re used to.”

Kallus moved his crates aside and stepped forward to peer in the room. _Bed pit_ was a good descriptor: a large mattress was set into the floor, along the tree-side wall, lined with pillows and folded blankets. It looked incredibly inviting, to be honest.

“If you’re sure,” Kallus said. “This is your planet. I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have.”

Zeb gave him a look. “It’s your planet, too, you know.”

“I suppose that we can always inquire about separate housing later,” Kallus said. “You unpack here; I’m fine out of my crates.” He deactivated the repulsors, leaving them in the hallway, pushed to the side.

Kallus walked through the rest of the house, exploring. The refresher was different, but seemed self-explanatory enough. He tapped the windows in the main room and was surprised to find it was made of actual glass and not the synthesized transparisteel he was used to.

The kitchen was small, but already overflowing with foods he didn’t recognize. There were small notes on most things, names he didn’t recognize and cooking instructions that quickly outstripped his abilities. Though, considering he hadn’t cooked for himself until he commanded the _Glimmer_ , perhaps that wasn’t too surprising.

“Wonder if they set this up for everyone who came or just us?” Zeb asked, wandering into the kitchen behind Kallus.

“I haven’t a clue,” Kallus said, closing the conservator. “But it appears to be enough to feed both of us for a week.”

“Generous of ‘em,” Zeb said, testing one of the chairs at the small table. He picked up a piece of flimsi – or perhaps it was real paper – from a stack on the table and read off some data. “Twenty-five hour day/night cycles, it looks like. And we’re entering a warm season.”

Kallus nodded, looking out the window. In just the time it had taken for them to arrive at their new house, dark had fallen. “Suppose we better eat and think about sleep,” he said, desperately trying _not_ to think about sharing a bed with Zeb. “Do you know how to cook any of this?”

Zeb looked up. “Prob’ly. But I packed us some meals from the _Glimmer_ for tonight. We can deal with all that in the morning.”

 _At least one of us thought ahead_ , Kallus mused. “That sounds good.”

Zeb disappeared down the hall for a few moments, returning with two containers of noodles. It was an Elomin recipe Mikal had taught Kallus, one of the few he knew and liked.

They reheated the noodles and ate, perusing the notes they’d been left. They were filled with little notes about the world and their community: who their neighbors were, how to call a speeder if they needed a ride, the closest markets and stores and recreation facilities.

“No holos,” Zeb said, a little downcast. “Though I suppose we could always go buy a projector and install it ourselves. Just have to watch ‘vids instead of a broadcast. Unless you think…?”

Kallus shook his head. “Broadcasts are never going to reach us through that maelstrom. If you want to watch a holo, you’ll have to buy it.”

Zeb huffed and flipped the page over. “Looks like they’ve got just about everything you could expect for a world in the Unknown Regions. More, really.”

“It’ll be interesting to see how different things are since they’ve had millennia to diverge from the rest of the galaxy,” Kallus said. “I’m curious if these houses are built to resemble those out there or if this is standard for Lira San, since this community is all refugee.”

Zeb shrugged. “As long as everything works, I don’t guess I care.”

Kallus stifled a yawn, glancing at the wall chrono. It wasn’t late yet, but he was worn out from their talk with the queen. She’d been incredibly perceptive and seemed to be able to read him as easily as a lasat, which was impressive if he really was the first human she’d ever met. 

Impressive, but also exhausting. She’d asked probing questions and expected thorough answers. With Zeb serving as ambassador and Kallus his aide, they would probably spend a lot of time back in Liashka, starting the next day.

“I think I’m ready to sleep,” he admitted. “Is there a trick to the bed?”

“Nah,” Zeb said, still picking at his meal. “It’s a bed. Just softer ‘n you’re used to. Grab a blanket and pick a side.”

“I’ll take a sonic first,” Kallus said.

Zeb shook his head. “Looked like a real water shower to me.”

Another difference. Well, Kallus was a quick study. Usually. “That’s fine.” He stood and looked around for the best way to clean his dish.

“I got it,” Zeb said. Kallus turned and Zeb motioned for him to put down the container and fork. “You go clean up and I’ll join you in bed.”

 _Join me in bed_. Kallus managed not to react beyond a curt nod, but that phrase echoed in his mind as he showered, distracting him from the absolute luxury of a water shower. He hadn’t had one since Yavin, but he was in no state to enjoy it.

Kallus pulled on some underclothes to sleep in, desperately trying not to imagine how Zeb would sleep, since the lasat didn’t usually wear underclothes. 

He got an answer anyway – and an eyeful. Zeb was changing into some loose short pants when Kallus entered the bedroom, giving Kallus a good view of his bare back and ass.

He’d touched Zeb there before, petted that soft fur, back on Endor, but it had been so dark he hadn’t seen a thing. He’d been able to tell that Zeb was muscular from the moment he met him – those battle jumpsuits Zeb favored left little to the imagination – but seeing it was a different matter altogether.

Kallus swallowed, the slight noise getting Zeb’s attention. Ears swiveled his way first, followed by the rest of Zeb, who grinned sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Shoulda shut the door.”

“It’s your house,” Kallus pointed out. “You shouldn’t have to put yourself out just because I’m here, too.”

Zeb gestured to the bed pit. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”

Kallus nodded and studied the bed. Pillows lined every side, but there was an extra row against the wall, so he assumed that must be the head of the bed. He walked around to the far side and lowered himself into the pit, kneeling on a mattress that was softer than anything he’d ever slept on in his life.

He noticed Zeb watching him closely, but didn’t catch the lasat’s eyes. Instead, Kallus unfolded one of the blankets and stretched out. The bed was more than long enough for his frame, a rarity in his life. Kallus was used to sleeping curled up in cramped bunks.

Zeb turned off the lights, the only glow coming from the chrono on the dresser. It was still enough that Kallus could watch as Zeb lay down as well, the mattress moving as the lasat settled in.

Kallus could feel the heat coming off Zeb, so he rolled on his side, facing away.

It didn’t help. He stayed still, willing himself to sleep, but he couldn’t, not with the warmth of Zeb so close, or the sound of his breathing loud and rhythmic. 

He wanted to take comfort in the sensations. He wanted to roll the other way and bury himself in all that glorious muscle and soft fur. He _wanted_ , so badly.

All he could think about was Endor, however. The feel of Zeb’s body against his, the taste of his kisses, the way they _fit_ together so inexplicably well. 

He had to move. There was no way Kallus could actually sleep next to Zeb, not when he wanted what he couldn’t have.

After an hour ticked away on the chrono and Kallus felt sure Zeb was asleep, from the way his breathing had softened and deepened, he carefully crept out of the room, resituating himself on the couch. Once again, he was curled up on an too short impromptu mattress, but at least he was alone.

With a sigh, Kallus closed his eyes again, finally drifting off to sleep, the soft whir of electronics in the new house the only sound in his ears.

Peace.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but next chapter will pick back up!
> 
> Still using Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana (and other SW languages):  
>  _vo'arik_ \- roughly, 'bastard'  
>  _sleemo_ \- Huttese insult, used by Ezra in canon

> _The large black weapon the Imperial wielded wasn’t exactly a rifle, nor was it a rocket launcher. Zeb was curious about it for three short seconds._
> 
> _Three seconds was how long the Guardsman next to him had to live._
> 
> _Three seconds before a ragged green bolt hit him and he disintegrated._
> 
> _Actual disintegration, not simply a florid description. One moment, there was a large, healthy male lasat, and then next, he twisted in a scream and became dust, leaving nothing behind but a bo-rifle clattering to the ground._
> 
> _The Imperial took aim at a child running to shelter next. Zeb was still locked in horror at the demise of his subordinate; he wasn’t quick enough_ –

Zeb shot upright, sweat trailing uncomfortably down his face and chest and back, fear gripping his mind.

It took a moment longer than it should have to orient himself in the dimly lit room. They’d been on Lira San for a week, he’d had the same nightmare for a week, and he’d woken up feeling like he was in the wrong place for a week.

Looking around the room, he slowed his breaths. Nothing had changed since he first fell asleep. He was alone in bed, the blankets kicked off, and growing cold as the night air wicked away the sweat. Looking wistfully to the other side of the bed, Zeb wished – yet again – that he _wasn’t_ alone.

It was a silly wish. After the second time that Kallus had gotten up and left in the middle of the night, they quit pretending that they could share the bed.

“ _We’ve had sex_ ,” he’d wanted to point out to Kallus, frustrated with the decision. “ _What’s so hard about sleeping in the same bed_?”

Zeb hadn’t said anything, though. Truth was, he knew exactly why it was hard, at least for himself. It was the fact _that_ they’d had sex. It was the memory of Kallus’s smooth skin and silky hair and the way he felt and smelled and tasted that night, the feeling that though it was good then, it could get even better if they just _kept at it_.

But they hadn’t. And Zeb had to try and respect Kallus’s desire to stay distant, as much as he wanted to grab the man and kiss him again. Or at least _touch_ him.

His first couple of days had been spent in Liashka, discussing the state of the galaxy beyond the star cluster with Queen Kirahan, while his nights were spent with a tutor, a student still herself but quite good at her task, learning the Lira San dialect and culture as best he could. Kallus accompanied him most of the time and the two of them moved the _Glimmer_ to a clearing near their house.

Zeb was, admittedly, surprised that Kallus didn’t speak up and ask about alternative housing arrangements, but he wasn’t going to complain. Even if Kallus wouldn’t share the bed, it was nice having him in the house. They took turns cooking – Kallus was _terrible_ , but Zeb tried to be encouraging – and swapped stories late into the night. Mostly stories of their Rebellion exploits, but Zeb managed to draw out some childhood and Imperial stories from Kallus as well.

They found their footing again, in relation to each other, as friends. Neither Zeb nor Kallus seemed willing to bring up Endor and Zeb mentally wrote the night off as a drunken mistake.

Not a mistake to have confessed his feelings – no, he’d do that again in a heartbeat – nor for sleeping with Kallus, but a mistake to have forced Kallus into saying more than he must have meant.

Snarling, Zeb kicked the last of the blanket off. That line of thinking led him nowhere good and he was in bad enough shape from the constant nightmares. 

The chrono said it was almost sunrise; Zeb crawled out of bed, put on some proper clothes, and raised the window shades. The soft glow through the trees confirmed the time. Kallus would be rising soon, he knew, so he didn’t feel guilty for softly padding through the house and getting a drink from the kitchen.

Ears pricking for the sound of movement, Zeb filled the caf machine they’d brought from the _Glimmer_ and set it to brew. He didn’t care for the bitter drink, but most humans Zeb knew did, Kallus included.

Sipping at a glass of water, Zeb examined their fridge. They were going to have to go to the market before too long and wasn’t that an intimidating prospect? The merchants wouldn’t know Basic or Lasana so he’d have to speak Lira Sana – and, most importantly, decide on what he wanted to eat.

It was silly, he knew. The Lira San food wasn’t bad. It was quite good, actually, except for one problem: _it didn’t taste like Lasan_.

Somehow, he’d expected similarities in spicing and flavors, but the similarities were few and far between, Lira San food relying on a completely different flavor profile and utilizing more sauces than he was used to.

Staring at their dwindling food supply, Zeb sighed. He’d just do what he’d done the last few days: trek to the _Glimmer_ for a spacer breakfast. Maybe waffles.

The air moved in the main room and Kallus sighed. “Are you sneaking out again?” he asked, the sleepiness still in his voice making his accent thicker.

“‘M not _sneaking_ ,” Zeb protested. “Just tryin’ to be quiet so I don’t wake you.”

“Mm,” Kallus hummed, sitting up and combing his hands through his hair to shake out the tangles. It only took him one pass with his fingers to look ready for the day; a trick Zeb suspected most humans would be jealous of him for. “You woke me when you started brewing the caf.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” By then fully awake in both voice and movement, Kallus stood and strode into the kitchen. “So where are you headed?”

“Uh,” Zeb stalled, as distracted by Kallus’s sleepwear – nothing but undershorts as the weather warmed – as he was embarrassed by his answer. “The _Glimmer_. Was gonna eat out there.”

Kallus eyed him as he pulled a mug from the top shelf, stretching just enough to give Zeb a peek at his back and shoulder muscles moving.

 _Karabast_ , he cursed mentally. _Get over it, Garazeb. Stop wanting what Kal isn’t offering_.

“You know there’s breakfast stuff here,” Kallus pointed out.

“I know,” Zeb said. “I just…”

“You’re not comfortable here yet?” Kallus guessed.

Zeb scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Let me put on some clothes and I’ll go to the _Glimmer_ with you,” Kallus offered. “Caf should be ready by that time, too.”

“You don’t have to,” Zeb said. “Relax. I think we’ve got a full day of school today.”

Kallus smiled a little. “I suppose it does feel like school again. Or a very detailed mission briefing.”

The comparison made Zeb laugh sadly. “Yeah, suppose so. If the rest of our lives counts as a mission.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Kallus shrugged. “If it’s easier to think of it that way.” He brushed past Zeb and dug in one of his crates, still stacked along the wall, to get some clothes. They were Rebel clothes still, not the styles favored on Lira San.

Then again, Zeb hadn’t changed out his wardrobe either. Practically, it was because they’d been too busy to go to any stores yet, but Zeb knew he’d been putting that off on purpose.

Zeb closed his eyes and faced away while Kallus dressed, trying to respect the boundary between them. 

The caf machine beeped, getting Zeb’s attention. “I’ll get that for you,” he offered, carefully fixing Kallus’s caf just the way the human liked it.

“Thanks,” said Kallus, coming up behind Zeb and taking the warm mug. He glanced at it and frowned quizzically. “You remember how I take it?”

“Well, I _have_ watched you make it the last few days,” Zeb pointed out. _But I never forgot from Yavin, before they gave you the **Glimmer**. Sweet and milky, almost the same shade as the vines on the Massassi trees_.

For a second, he felt guilty for remembering that so well, but he reminded himself he could still fix caf for Kanan and Kanan had been gone for years. It was just one of those things Zeb remembered about his family.

And Kallus was family, one way or another.

“Let’s go,” he said, pressing back that thought. 

Together, they walked through the refugee village. Ollira, the others called it, a shortening of the word _hope_ – something the surviving people of Lasan had had little of for years.

Ollira was quiet, only their neighbors who kept livestock awake and out at such an hour. The _Glimmer_ was only a ten minute walk from the edge of town, the path they traveled starting to wear and become more obvious every day.

Kallus keyed in the code to lower the ramp and the two made their way up and into the galley. Taking a seat, Kallus watched as Zeb dug through the stores for the waffle mix.

“We’re almost out,” Zeb said, not quite sure why that made him so sad. It wasn’t like they were starving. It wasn’t like waffles were the height of culinary luxury, either.

But they did make him think of the _Ghost_ , of the Spectres, of what was _home_ for so many years after Lasan was lost to him.

“We’ll just have to go back out and get some,” Kallus said reasonably. “I’ll want to stock up on more caf, too, since you lasat are strange creatures who don’t drink it.”

“Well, would _you_ drink it if it routinely made you sick?” Zeb asked.

Kallus snorted, leaning back in his seat and hooking a finger around the handle of his now-empty mug. “If it kept me going still? I would.”

“Addicts, all you humans,” Zeb laughed as he blended the mix with some shelf-stable nerf milk.

“Maybe,” Kallus said, a sly smile on his face. “But _awake_ and _alert_ ones.”

Zeb carefully poured the mix into each triangle on the iron, closed the top and flipped the contraption so that it’d start cooking. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Why’d you come with me today, if you know I’ve been coming out here every morning?”

“Middle of the night, more like,” Kallus corrected. “I assume you’re having nightmares again?”

Zeb worried at his lower lip with his fangs. “What makes you say that?”

Kallus cocked his head, an unamused expression on his face. “You’re loud when you have nightmares.”

The fur on Zeb’s neck ruffled in embarrassment. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m fine,” Kallus said, giving Zeb a serious look. “But it doesn’t seem like you are.”

Zeb gulped. “I– it’s just being around the other Lasan refugees,” he said. “Gets to me.”

“‘Gets to you’ why?”

Thankfully, the waffle iron beeped at that moment, letting Zeb stall on answering. _Because I didn’t save their families. Because I failed_. He plated the waffles and sat down, holding one with his claws until it cooled enough to eat. “They’re just reminders.”

“Of everyone you lost?” Kallus asked, gently this time.

“Something like that,” he said. “I thought I was past this. I’d quit having many of the nightmares after we found Lira San and by the time you got away from Thrawn, I wasn’t having them at all. But we get here…”

“And it’s fresh again.”

“Yeah.”

Kallus was quiet for a minute while Zeb tore the waffle into bite-sized pieces. “You know, I’ve been having nightmares about Lasan, too, since we got here. It’s why I’ve been awake to hear you have yours.”

Zeb eyed Kallus. Did he want to ask? “What are yours?”

Kallus looked away. “I think you can imagine. What used to be a triumph is now a horror, especially when it’s your face I see. Yours and the children here in Ollira.”

Zeb stopped chewing. _I shouldn’t have asked_ , he thought. _I could have guessed all that and I wouldn’t have made him feel guilty_.

Blinking, Kallus stared at his hands, fidgeting in his lap. “I know they’ve all agreed I can be here, but I still–”

“Still what?” Zeb asked.

“I still don’t think they should have.”

Zeb frowned. “Kal, we’ve talked about where you can shove your ‘shoulds’.”

Kallus huffed, almost a laugh. “Yes, we have. Believe me, Zeb, I try to. But you understand, guilt isn’t always easy to reason with.”

“Yeah,” Zeb said. He couldn’t really argue that. “Guilt’s a kriffing _vo’arik_ _sleemo_.”

“ _In Lira Sana, please_ ,” Kallus said, echoing their tutor’s sing-song voice. He still spoke Lasana and Lira Sana with a thick accent, but Zeb had gone from being amused by it to loving the sound of it.

He let himself smile. “I don’t think we’ve learned that vocabulary yet.” Zeb pushed his plate across the table, offering Kallus a waffle.

Kallus returned the warm smile as he took one and for a second, everything was right in Zeb’s galaxy.

* * *

The market in Liashka was huge and Kallus was thoroughly enjoying himself wandering through the stalls and stores, picking out foodstuffs and other small luxuries. He’d even gone first and had some lasat clothes altered to fit him so he didn’t stand out quite so much.

Being stared at everywhere he went wasn’t new, though the reason for it was. He’d been used to commanding attention and having every move watched when he was ISB, but that had been years ago and he’d enjoyed some anonymity since then. The second he stepped onto Lira San, though, he was fated to be singled out.

 _This is what it must have felt like for Zeb, back when he thought he was one of the only survivors_ , Kallus thought, examining some drying herbs. _If he lived like that for years out in the galaxy, I can get used to being the only human on the planet_.

He paid for his goods as he went, using the small stipend the queen had granted Zeb for his service as an ambassador. Sometime, he knew, they would have to earn their own way and he was musing on a few ideas for that. That was still a ways off, however, as long as they remained in royal good graces.

Looking around the market’s central plaza, Zeb was nowhere in sight. Of course, it was harder to spot one purple lasat amongst many other lasat, especially when he was a bit shorter than the others.

Kallus wound his way through the crowd toward the central fountain. He’d guessed right; Zeb sat by the fountain, gently rubbing the leaves of one of the flowering vines.

Glancing first at Zeb’s nearly empty basket and his own overflowing one, Kallus cleared his throat.

Zeb startled, but covered with a grin when he saw Kallus. “Got your stuff?” he asked.

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “Do _you_?”

Zeb looked guiltily at his basket. “Got some stuff to try an’ replace the waffle mix. Figured you were getting enough for both of us the rest of the time.”

“Here,” Kallus said, hiding his frown by handing Zeb his clothing purchases. “If that’s all you’re going to buy, you can help me carry this.”

Zeb nodded and took the clothes. “I should probably get me some too, sometime.”

“Probably,” Kallus agreed. “But later. I want to get this stuff back to the conservator before it goes bad.”

“Right.” Zeb gave a half-grin and set off toward the speeder they’d borrowed from the palace for the time being.

Kallus followed, letting Zeb part the crowd before them, just as he had on Endor.

 _Endor_. He sighed. Kallus really tried not to think about Endor anymore, especially when Zeb was so obviously miserable.

They’d been on Lira San nearly a Standard month and while they were both working hard to learn their way around the new world, Zeb was just not quite getting it. At first, Kallus thought it strange that he, the human, was picking up Lira Sana faster and remembering local holidays and culture, but it occurred to him that Zeb was having to _unlearn_ Lasana language and customs first.

There wasn’t much of anything Kallus could do to help Zeb adjust besides be supportive when he could. He spoke Lira Sana at home, even when Zeb switched back to Basic the second they stepped in the door. He had come to love the food – flavorful and hot and _nothing_ like he’d had in either the Empire or the Rebellion – and insisted they cook local recipes often.

Zeb tended to poke at the food, however. Kallus had pressed him once – Lasana cuisine had a reputation for being equally spiced – and had been told the spices were all the _wrong_ ones. The flavors were tasty, but they weren’t the ones Zeb had grown up with.

Over the past weeks, Zeb had sunk further and further into a depression that Kallus didn’t know how to get him out of. He tried – making him get out of the house, trying to approximate favorite meals from the Rebellion, getting him to talk about good memories and laugh – but nothing really seemed to help. 

Kallus truly didn’t have much experience with helping anyone through such a thing. He hadn’t had subordinates to worry about in the ISB and if any of his colleagues showed signs of mental strains, they were whisked back to Coruscant for treatment, crude as it was. In the Rebellion, it had been much the same: either a person had the fortitude to last the war or they left.

Or they died.

So seeing a friend – his _best_ friend – suffer was difficult and confusing, though Kallus was aware his worry was nothing compared to whatever Zeb was feeling.

Kallus knew Zeb was suffering from a severe homesickness that sapped at his strength and personality both. He just didn’t know how to fix that.

He couldn’t give him Lasan back, could he?

Zeb unloaded the groceries while Kallus folded his new clothes and put them in the chest they’d moved from the bedroom to sit by the couch, where he still slept.

His mind churned, trying to come up with a safe topic, but all he could think of was the dullness in Zeb’s eyes as of late. It was _wrong_ , seeing him so listless and depressed.

From what he’d heard, Zeb had been that way before, after the fall of Lasan – understandably so – and it took Kanan and Hera to lift him out of it enough to function. It’d taken the discovery of Lira San to bring him fully back to the warrior he’d been before.

But Lira San _was_ the problem. How did Kallus fix _that_?

Maybe… by getting off Lira San for a little bit?

He didn’t bring it up until they were cooking dinner together – Zeb grilling some marinated meat on the stove, Kallus trying not to completely kriff up slicing the vegetables about to go in the oven.

“I think it’s time we go back,” he said, in Basic.

Zeb froze. “What?”

Kallus nudged him aside with his shoulder so he could open the oven. “I think we should go back for a while. Go to Chandrila. You need to check in with the Senate at some point about your conversations with the queen.” He took a step back, keeping a careful eye on Zeb. “And maybe we can see Hera and Jacen.”

Zeb’s shoulders stayed tense. “Thought we were going to stay here,” he said slowly, though Kallus thought he heard a questioning note in his tone.

“Zeb,” Kallus said gently, “You’re an ambassador. You’ve got to have a presence both places. And it might be good to go back for a bit. For us and for the _Glimmer_. You saw the vines growing on her landing struts. She’s been sitting too long.”

Zeb paused. “For us?”

 _Karabast_ , Kallus swore mentally. He hadn’t meant it to come across like that. He busied himself setting the table. “I meant that it would do us both good.”

“I thought you were happy here,” Zeb said.

 _I would be happier if you were_. “I’m doing fine,” Kallus said, before continuing carefully, “but I don’t think you are.”

Zeb didn’t say anything for the longest time. “Yeah,” he said, finally looking at Kallus. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Talk to Queen Kirahan tomorrow and see if she has an answer for the Senate.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Zeb asked.

Kallus shrugged. “Then we go anyway. No answer is still an answer.”

Zeb nodded, turning back to the food.

His shoulders seemed a little more relaxed, however.

Kallus allowed himself a smile. Maybe, just maybe, the trip would help Zeb feel better.

Zeb’s happiness was about the only thing Kallus wanted these days. Zeb had fought for Kallus when no one else would, so even if Zeb would never be anything more than a friend, Kallus wanted the best for Zeb.

And he’d fight another war to get it for him.


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Lasana!
> 
>  _aki’a_ : roughly brat/squirt

The Senate building on Chandrila had been hastily constructed over the past two months and if he looked, Zeb could see beyond the gilt and velvet to the cut corners and pasted together edges.

Much like the New Republic itself, actually.

Zeb looked around the small chamber he’d been directed to, noting that only about half of the senators were from the Rebellion. From what he’d seen of the new government so far, that was normal: so many new signatory worlds had flipped from the Empire to the New Republic as soon as they felt safe to do so – or as soon as it became clear the Rebellion would win, Zeb thought darkly – that the old Rebellion leadership was almost outnumbered.

At the moment, though, the Rebellion contingent was fully in charge. Mon Mothma, the first Chancellor of the new government, sat in the middle of a curved table, surrounded by senators and their aides.

Zeb did his best to stand straight and still, as befit an ambassador, but really he just wanted to finish up and get back to the _Glimmer_.

“No,” he said, yet again. “I’ve been talking to Queen Kirahan nearly every day and while she’s highly interested in what’s happening out here, she doesn’t think it’d be safe for them to join the New Republic. Seems to think neutrality is the best option.”

“Did neutrality help Lasan?” asked a bothan. “I seem to recall you all used the same arguments not to join the Old Republic.”

Zeb glared at the haughty senator. “Lasan was not physically protected from invasion like Lira San is. And, if you recall, the Old Republic had fallen by the time the Empire attacked us.” _We called for help from the Republic worlds that had promised friendship, but only Kashyyyk answered. And they paid bitterly for helping us_.

“They have been self-sufficient for a very long time,” pointed out another senator. “What are we offering them that they don’t already have?”

“Trade,” pointed out the bothan. “Protection. Technology. _Culture_.”

Zeb very nearly suppressed his snort.

The bothan’s head snapped around to look at him. “You find that funny?”

“Lira San isn’t lacking in culture or technology,” Zeb said. “It’s just different.”

Another senator, a human whose nameplate identified them as being from Lorrde, leaned forward. “Was sending you a mistake?” they asked. “Are you fully representing the interests of the New Republic or are you representing theirs?”

The fur on Zeb’s back and shoulders stood on end defensively. “You weren’t around after Endor,” he said, “but I retired. I _quit_. I only said I’d talk to the queen as a favor. I never said I would be an ambassador long-term. As far as I’m concerned, you have your answer and I’ve done my duty.”

Mon Mothma stood. “Please relax, Ambassador Orrelios. We don’t mean to antagonize you.”

Zeb glared at the Lorrdian and the bothan. Mon Mothma may not have meant offense, but it certainly felt like those two had. He was glad he felt like he’d done his duty already, because playing politics was not his forte. He was meant to fight on the field with a bo-rifle and tooth and claw, not with words. 

“You’ll excuse me, Chancellor, but I think I’m resigning as ambassador. You want someone to connive and convince, well, that ain’t me. I made an honest effort and now I want to actually retire.”

Part of Zeb wondered what Kallus would think of him resigning, but it didn’t matter. He’d already said the words. Only the fallout remained.

“You’ve thought about this?” Mon Mothma asked.

 _Yeah. Since the second you asked me to do it_. “Yes,” Zeb said, inclining his head respectfully. “I have.”

“Very well,” she said, then looked around the room. “We will deliberate on another candidate and hope Queen Kirahan accepts our delegation.”

Zeb waited a moment to see if he was addressed again. A protocol droid shuffled up to him. “Amb– Master Orrelios, if you’ll follow me.”

“I’m nobody’s master,” Zeb huffed, but he let the droid lead him out of the room and down the hall out of the senatorial chambers.

The droid handed him a comlink. “Please keep this on you, Master Orrelios. Chancellor Mothma may need your assistance while you are still on-planet.”

“Can’t even get away when you quit,” Zeb grumbled, but he plucked the comlink from the droid’s hand. “Uh, d’you happen to know where Alexsandr Kallus is?”

The droid’s eyes blinked rapidly as it accessed some network database. “I believe he’s in the main plaza, out front, according to security records.”

“Thanks.” Setting off for the main plaza, Zeb gripped the comlink tightly.

Had he done the right thing? He was just _so tired_ lately. The thought of going back to Lira San and talking to the queen nearly every day when he could stay in Ollira with Kallus instead…

Well, maybe stay with Kallus or not. He wasn’t going to make Kallus stick around if he didn’t want to. But it would make things nicer, wouldn’t it?

Zeb stepped out into the sunshine; it was an absolutely gorgeous day on Chandrila and the sun sparkled in the mist of the huge fountain.

Somewhere in the crowd, Kallus was waiting for him.

* * *

It’d been tempting to send Zeb off with a kiss, even just a good-luck peck on the cheek.

But Alexsandr Kallus wasn’t going to overstep his bounds when it came to Zeb. He’d done that enough as an Imperial.

Never again.

So he’d watched Zeb be escorted off to talk to the Chancellor’s small council with little more than a whispered “good luck.”

There was no telling how long Zeb’s meeting would take – or how much it would take out of him – so Kallus took his time leaving the new Senate building, perusing a hall of holos showcasing heroes of the Rebellion. Far too many names and faces were familiar and he found he had to keep moving when he came across a list of pilots who died at Scarif and Yavin. He’d only been in the Rebellion proper for a bit over a year at that point, but he’d had acquaintances – no, _friends_ , in the Rebellion, he had friends, not just colleagues – who’d died far too young.

“Mama, do we _have_ to stay?” whined a young voice behind Kallus. One he recognized.

He turned and found Hera Syndulla standing there, one hand firmly holding Jacen’s, with an enigmatic smile on her face.

Kallus tried to return the grin. “You got my message,” he said.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “I’m stationed out of Chandrila for the time being, but I’m always on call for action.”

“I’m glad you came anyway.”

She nodded. “You said Zeb needed help. Where is he?”

Kallus gestured deeper into the building. “Talking to senators. He doesn’t know I called you; I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case you didn’t come.”

Jacen wiggled impatiently and Hera picked the four-year-old up, balancing him on her hip. “What’s the problem?”

Gesturing for them to walk down the hall and out of the building, Kallus tried to catch Hera up without revealing too many of his own motivations.

“Lira San isn’t suiting him,” he said bluntly. “There’s some similarities to Lasan, but not enough. I think it’s just exacerbating his homesickness after losing two homes to war.”

“He hasn’t _lost_ the _Ghost_ , you know,” Hera pointed out.

“I know that. I’m certain _he_ knows that. But if he stayed with you, he’d have to keep fighting and he’s the one who wanted to quit. If you weren’t still a general, I think he’d stay with you and Jacen in a heartbeat,” Kallus confessed. _He’d pick them over me any time and he ought to_.

They pushed through the outer doors into the bright Chandrilan sunlight and Hera led the way toward the fountain. “So he’s not fitting in. What about the other Lasan lasat?”

“The other refugees? Most are fitting in well enough, I think. They don’t carry the guilt Zeb does and seem to be grateful for a safe place to live. The queen has given the refugee community everything they could ever want: their own homes in their own neighborhood, tutors for language and customs to help them fit in, jobs if they seek them…”

“And has Zeb taken advantage of those?” Hera asked, setting Jacen down so he could run through the fountain, splashing in the pools with other children.

“The tutors, yes, and the housing,” Kallus said. “We’ve been meeting with the queen a lot, so there hasn’t really been a chance to look for employment on the planet.”

Hera hummed a brief note. “How are _you_ fitting in? You’re the only human there, right?”

Kallus sighed. “I’m fitting in well enough. I’m better than Zeb with the language, but I’m not constantly comparing Lira Sana to Lasana. The food is all new to me and I’m not comparing it to Coruscanti cuisine; although to be fair, what I grew up on could hardly be called ‘cuisine’. The music, the poems, the holidays, the mythology… all of it is just a little too close yet too unfamiliar for Zeb to feel completely at home.”

Hera nodded. “That makes sense. I had wondered how he’d adapt, but I was worried more about his guilt for not protecting Lasan.”

 _There was nothing he could have done_ , Kallus thought, but didn’t voice. Hera knew that already; it didn’t need to be said again. “There’s a fair amount of that. He’s seemed…” Kallus paused to think a moment. “Distant. Sad. Hard to reach. He’s got his good moments, but I think it’s all an act. I think the sadness is what he’s really feeling.”

“He’s depressed, you mean?” Hera asked.

“Yes.” Kallus sighed, watching Jacen run. “I don’t know what to do.”

“And you thought I would?”

 _Did I guess wrong_? “I thought maybe you would. You helped him after Lasan, brought him back to himself.”

Hera laughed darkly. “We got him functioning, you mean. He wasn’t himself for _years_.”

Kallus frowned. “So what worked?”

“First? It was finding Lira San and rediscovering that he could still be the Honor Guard Captain. Then, it was recruiting you and realizing he could make a real difference in the war effort.”

Flushing, Kallus shook his head. “I don’t know how to replicate either of those situations.”

“I don’t think you can.” Hera’s eyes narrowed and she studied Kallus closely. “Where are the two of you?”

“Wh– I don’t know what you mean,” Kallus lied.

She gave him a look. “If you think I don’t know about Endor or the fact that the two of you have made eyes at each other since Yavin…”

Kallus looked away quickly, willing away the blood that rushed to his cheeks. Kriff his fair complexion! Hera had him pegged, however. “You may be right about me,” he allowed, “but you’re wrong about Zeb.”

Hera… _giggled_ was the only word Kallus had for it. “You really think that I know you better than I know Zeb? He’s been family for over twice as long as you’ve been around.”

“No,” Kallus said, trying to do damage control. “Just that I’m easier to read.”

“Zeb is a sliced and blown data file compared to you,” Hera said. “He wears his heart on his sleeve, if you know where to look.”

“His bodysuits are sleeveless,” Kallus grumped, aware he was being petulant.

“Like I said, if you know where to look.” Hera placed a gentle hand on Kallus’s arm. “He’s crazy about you and has been for years. I thought maybe you two were finally pulling your heads out of your asses on Endor, but if you haven’t gone any further…”

Kallus stared at Hera. “But he hasn’t _said_ or _done_ anything,” he protested. “If he wanted me around, he’d have said something.”

“Kallus,” Hera said, in a patronizing tone. “ _He_ _took you to Lira San_. I’ve been to the space over Lira San, but I’ve never been to the surface. None of the Spectres were ever invited. _Just. You._ ”

Unsure how to process that, Kallus looked around, not really seeing the crowd around them. “But–”

“No buts,” Hera said. “Do you love him, too?”

 _I should say no. I should leave. I should_ – “Yes.”

“Then tell him.” Hera’s voice softened and when Kallus looked, she was watching Jacen. “You never know when or if you’ll get another chance.”

Kallus had no argument to that. Anything he could have said would have been disrespectful.

“There ya are!” boomed Zeb’s voice from off to the right. “An’ Hera?”

Kallus smiled at Zeb. “Look who found me,” he said.

Zeb looked around quickly. “Jacen with you?”

Hera stood and gave Zeb a hug. “He is. Call him, he’ll hear you.”

Zeb smiled when he spotted the boy. “Jacen!” he shouted, loud enough that a lot of the children playing stopped and looked.

Jacen burst into a grin and ran over, barreling straight into Zeb’s arms. 

Zeb swung him high before settling the boy on his shoulder. “How ya doin’, Jace?”

Jacen wrapped his arms around Zeb’s head, squishing his ears. “‘M good!” he announced. 

“You’re wet, is what you are,” Zeb said and Kallus saw the water dripping down from Jacen’s shoes. “Gettin’ me all messy, _aki’a_.”

The boy giggled as Zeb spun around, kicking his legs and spraying Kallus and Hera both with water.

Even as he brushed the droplets off his shirt, Kallus couldn’t help but notice just how _happy_ Zeb seemed in that moment. How _good_ he was with Jacen. How _much_ he loved his family.

How could Kallus ever hope to give him a similar measure of happiness?

* * *

Hours later, Zeb crashed on the couch in Hera’s apartment, exhausted from entertaining Jacen but unable to stop smiling.

“You’re good with him,” Kallus said, quietly, so as not to disturb Hera while she was putting Jacen to bed.

“Nah,” Zeb said. “He’s just a good kit. I wouldn’t know what to do with a bad one.”

Kallus shook his head but didn’t argue. 

Zeb leaned back, stretching his arms out – careful not to touch Kallus – and yawned. Kallus had been mostly quiet all afternoon, which worried Zeb a little. Sure, it made sense that Zeb and Hera would dominate the conversation, but Kallus could hold his own – _had_ throughout the Rebellion. So why would he be quiet now?

Hera emerged from Jacen’s room, the door _whoosh_ ing shut behind her. “Thank you for sticking around,” she said.

“Well, you said you wanted to talk without th’ kit around,” Zeb said.

She nodded solemnly. “I do. Zeb, we’ve had news about Lasan.”

 _Lasan_? Zeb sat up straight. “What about it?”

“The Imperial regiments stationed there have disappeared, according to our spies. They quit reporting in not too long after Endor and the news just made it to us a couple weeks ago. The Empire hasn’t gone for them and the New Republic isn’t interested in sending anyone to check it out either.”

Zeb frowned. “Why are you telling me this?” _What does Hera want from me_?

She shrugged. “I thought you’d want to know any updates about Lasan. Maybe you can help me try to convince the Senate to send a platoon to investigate.”

Zeb leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t think they’ll listen to me.”

“Why not?” Kallus asked. “You’re one of their diplomats.”

“Not anymore.”

“Zeb…” Hera said, low and slow. “What did you do?”

Zeb rubbed his eyes. “I quit. They wanted me to go back an’ argue with the queen an’ I don’t wanna do that. I wanna retire, like I said I was gonna do two months ago.”

If Hera and Kallus thought he missed their exchanged glance, they were wrong.

“So what do you want to do instead?” Kallus asked, caution in his tone. 

“I don’t know,” Zeb huffed. “I just… wanna be doing somethin’ else. I’m tired of being an ambassador. I’m tired of war.”

“So you want to just stay quietly on Lira San?” Hera asked.

“No!” Zeb blinked. “I mean, yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re allowed to do whatever makes you happy, Zeb,” Hera said. “You’re free of all obligations to anyone. What would you do if you could have anything?”

“If I could have–?” Zeb’s lip curled, baring fangs. “Hera, I can’t have _anything_.”

Hera didn’t back down. “But if you _could_.”

 _I’d be on Lasan. My family would be alive. I’d’ve stayed Captain of the Honor Guard and settled down with some other lasat, raised a family_.

 _No. Not some other lasat. Kal. I’d be with Kal and we’d have a life together_.

 _But Kal doesn’t want that. And Lasan isn’t there anymore_.

“No,” Zeb said. “I _can’t_. Not worth thinking about it.”

“Zeb–”

Cutting Kallus off with a glare, Zeb bit out, “Lasan is gone. I can’t have the life I always wanted.”

Kallus looked away, obviously feeling guilt. Zeb would have normally felt bad for bringing the topic up, but right at that moment…

He didn’t.

“Is that what you still want?” Hera asked. “I know what I wanted before I met Kanan is a lot different from what I want now.”

Zeb’s glare turned on Hera. She knew too much about his feelings toward Kallus and she was dancing dangerously close to _saying_ too much, as well.

It was time to get out of there, as much as he loved Hera. “I think we’d better get back to the _Glimmer_.”

Hera gave him a knowing look and he stared right back, daring her to say something.

“All right,” Kallus said, standing up. “We’ll let you know our departure plans, Hera. If we stay long enough, it’d be nice to meet up for more than just half a day.”

“Of course,” Hera said. She gave them both hugs, squeezing Zeb tight and whispering, “If you want to keep him around, you have to _tell him that_.”

Zeb dug claws into her back – lightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to let her know to stop saying such things. “We’ll see you both before too long, I’m sure.”

“Jacen would love that,” Hera said. “And so would I.”

Zeb and Kallus left Hera’s apartment and took a speeder cab to the edges of the capital, Hanna City, where the main spaceport was located.

“Do you want to leave tomorrow or stay longer?” Kallus asked as he opened the _Glimmer_ ’s ramp. “I’m fine either way.”

“Tonight,” Zeb said. “I want to leave tonight. Can we do that?”

Kallus seemed surprised. “I thought you’d want to spend more time with Hera and Jacen.”

“I do, but…” Zeb trailed off. “Chandrila’s not home.”

 _But neither is Lira San_.

Kallus watched him for a moment. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll go get our clearance codes and departure sequence.”

Zeb nodded. “And then two days of travel.”

Kallus shook his head. “Actually, I did some calculations on the way out here. I think we can do it in thirty-five hours.”

Shave a whole half a day off their trip? Zeb liked the thought of that.

He sat in the cockpit with Kallus until they were in hyperspace and Kallus had finished programming in all their jumps.

“This was easier with Dee-Four,” he grumbled. “I was an active agent, not an analyst.”

Zeb looked at the chrono. “So. Thirty-five hours?”

“Yes.”

“Still got that lomin-ale in the galley?”

Kallus smiled. “And some of that nasty wookiee stuff you like.”

“Ah, my hero,” Zeb said, pushing himself out of the copilot’s chair and nudging Kallus’s shoulder with a fist. “Let’s go.”

Kallus followed him out of the cockpit, taking a side trip into his cabin and emerging with arms full of liquor bottles.

Zeb was a little surprised at the number of bottles. As far as he knew, humans couldn’t drink the liquor, so Kallus had to have saved them for…

Well, for him. Or someone of another large species.

But probably him.

“Here,” said Kallus, setting the bottles on the table in the galley and sliding one his way. “Enjoy.”

Zeb examined the bottle. It was better quality than the Rebellion had usually managed to scrounge. “Where’d you get this?”

“Oh.” Kallus’s cheeks reddened a bit. “Had a mission to Kashyyyk a while back. Stocked up just in case.”

“Just in case?” Zeb arched an eyebrow.

Kallus shrugged. “Yeah. Never knew who I’d need to entertain.” He cleared his throat. “And I figured you’d want them if I never used them on a mission.”

Zeb looked at the bottle and thought about pressing Kallus – why hadn’t he brought them from the _Glimmer_ to their house? Why had he saved them? – but he didn’t say anything, unscrewing the bottletop.

Kallus plopped down next to Zeb, leaving just a couple centimeters between them, placing a couple bottles of lomin-ale on the table in front of him. He held the bottle out to Zeb, who laughed and popped the cap off with a claw for him.

They clinked the bottlenecks together and took long pulls. Zeb winced; the liquor was stronger than even he was used to, but the burn was smooth and pleasant. It tasted of muja fruit, a tart bite that Zeb liked. He’d have to ration out these bottles carefully.

Kallus led the conversation through the first bottles of drink, guiding Zeb into talking about the Senate meeting, letting him rant and complain and purge.

“I told ‘em they weren’t interested. But they can’t take _my_ word for it, can they?” Zeb grumped. “No, they’re sending someone else!”

“At least they’re not asking you to be an advisor,” Kallus said, his accent muddling a bit. “You get to do what you want now.”

 _I wanna do you_ , rose a dangerous thought in the back of Zeb’s mind. Before his head caught up to his tongue, he found himself asking, “Do you regret Endor?”

Kallus’s eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, obviously thinking. “Do you mean the battle, the death of the Emperor, the decision to leave the Rebellion, or the sex?” He tuned slightly, staring at Zeb’s hands. “The answer’s no, actually.”

“To which one?” Zeb had to be sure.

“To any of them.” Kallus took another drink. “You?” he asked quietly.

Zeb didn’t have to think about his answer, but he pretended to anyway. “No,” he admitted. “Especially not the sex.”

One edge of Kallus’s mouth quirked up. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“It could have been better,” Zeb said, only realizing it came out wrong when he saw the scandalized look on Kallus’s face before he appeared to shut down, all emotion leaving his face. “I didn’t mean that!”

“Oh? What _did_ you mean?” Kallus asked, sounding more like he was doing an interrogation than drinking with a friend.

“I meant– Kriff, Kal, you know what I meant.”

“No, I don’t.” Kallus resolutely refused to look at Zeb. “Please elaborate.”

“I meant it was _good_. But we were drunk. Totally spaced. It would have been better if we weren’t. If we’d been more aware.” Zeb set his bottle down, suddenly finding it distasteful. “I meant–” he cut off, unsure what exactly to say next to get casual, friendly Kallus back.

“You’d have done it differently,” Kallus said. “Would you have picked me, still, if you hadn’t been ‘totally spaced’?”

Zeb’s throat tightened. “Kal, I–” _I love you. I’d pick you any time I got the chance. I want another chance but it feels like I screwed it up_.

“It’s okay,” Kallus said. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Kal.” Suddenly emboldened, Zeb reached out and used two gentle fingers to turn Kallus’s face toward him. “I picked you then because I wanted you. Still do. But you don’t want me and that’s okay. I’m fine–”

The kiss, when it happened, was just as surprising as the one on Endor. As the one after Hoth. And it was just as delicious. More so, perhaps, because Zeb was drunk, but he wasn’t _drunk_. He still could appreciate the small noises Kallus made deep in his throat, the way his own purr rumbled in his chest.

Before Zeb knew what had happened, Kallus was in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him deeply. Zeb’s lungs burned for air, but he didn’t want to break the kiss, just in case it was all a mistake.

Kallus pulled away first, breathing heavily, smelling of nerves and lomin-ale and that spicy soap he kept on the _Glimmer_. “If you’re lying to me, Garazeb Orrelios, I will _end you_.” Another kiss. “But if you’re telling the truth, I want you in my cabin, _now_.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Zeb growled, angling to stand while carrying Kallus.

He couldn’t make it work, whining when he had to set Kallus down on the table – and whining _again_ when Kallus stopped to screw the cap back on his half-finished liquor bottle.

“If you paid as much as I did for that,” Kallus said, “you’d save every drop, too,”

“Fine,” Zeb said, getting to his feet and reaching back out. Kallus came to him easily, hair flopping shaggily over his forehead, not quite obscuring his golden eyes as they searched Zeb’s face.

Whatever it was Kallus wanted, he apparently found it, because he slipped a hand in Zeb’s and led the way to his cabin – a ‘stateroom’ in name only, though it did have a private refresher.

Kallus yanked Zeb into the room and slammed the door shut behind them.

* * *

Kallus woke hours later in a tangle of limbs and blankets. His face was pressed into the fur of Zeb’s chest, Zeb’s rhythmic snoring ruffling his hair. Claws pricked his bare back, Zeb kneading softly in his sleep.

Kallus couldn’t help but smile.

He hadn’t planned on falling back into bed with Zeb, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. If everything Zeb said last night was true – and Kallus wanted to believe it was – he _wanted_ Kallus as much as Kallus wanted him. It’d certainly seemed that way when they’d had sex – both that first slightly drunken time and then again, slower and less frantic, when they woke and found they still had hours left in their trip to Lira San.

A soft beeping told Kallus they’d run out of time.

“Zeb,” he said gently, nuzzling into Zeb’s chest and rubbing one hand up and down Zeb’s arm, massaging it to try and wake the lasat up. “We’re fifteen minutes out.”

“Nope,” Zeb mumbled. “Turn ‘er around and come back later.”

Kallus laughed. “That’s not a bad idea, but perhaps we shouldn’t linger on _this_ side of the star cluster, in case anyone does a system scan and notices us?”

The idea of danger to Lira San woke Zeb up more. “Okay, fine,” he grumped. “But we don’t have to get dressed again just yet, do we?”

Running fingers through Zeb’s beard, “As long as we’re dressed by the time we land, I suppose we’re all right.”

“Good.” Zeb squeezed Kallus’s butt cheeks, eliciting a squirm from Kallus.

It was good they dressed before landing, because Chava stood on the edges of their landing field, waiting.

“How’d you know we were coming?” Zeb asked her as they disembarked.

Kallus waited for her to say something mystical, but she showed off a small Lira Sana comlink instead. “Liashka port let me know you’d arrived in-system,” she said, smiling enigmatically.

“Well, tell Liashka the New Republic is sending another ambassador,” Zeb grumbled. “I quit.”

“I already told them that.”

Kallus saw Zeb tense. “How’d you know that?”

Chava chuckled. “Child, I know more than you think.”

“Stop calling me that,” Zeb said, as he always did. And as always, Chava ignored him.

“Come,” she said. “There is a meeting to hear the news you bring us.”

“Of course there is.”

Kallus put a hand on Zeb’s back and nudged him in Chava’s direction. He hoped the contact wasn’t too forward; they hadn’t discussed anything beyond sex, but Kallus was hopeful.

Chava led the way through the trees to the field of short red-tipped grass in the center of the settlement, where most of the refugees waited.

As Chava walked into the middle of the group, Zeb and Kallus took up position around the edges. “Our ambassador has returned,” she announced. “He has news for us.”

Kallus watched Zeb be shuffled to the center with Chava. 

“What?” Zeb asked. “That Lira San doesn’t want to join the New Republic?”

“We know that,” said another lasat. “What did the New Republic say?”

“They’re sending another delegation,” Zeb said. “They want Lira San as a member.”

A grumble ran through the crowd. “The Old Republic never helped us,” someone said. “Why do we need the new one?”

“That’s what I told them!” Zeb said. “Trust me.”

“Yeah, but Chava said you quit.”

Kallus listened as the meeting deteriorated, Zeb trying to figure out what the other refugees wanted to hear and Chava providing no help. It was tough to watch and finally, Kallus couldn’t take it anymore.

He pushed through to stand at Zeb’s side. “The Imperial Regiments on Lasan have disappeared,” he said loudly. “The New Republic isn’t doing anything about it. _That’s_ the big news we learned on Chandrila.”

That sent another murmur through the group.

Zeb straightened up and let out a growl, getting everyone’s attention. He caught Kallus’s eyes and Kallus nodded. Whatever Zeb was about to do, Kallus would back him whole-heartedly.

“We should go,” he said, catching Kallus by surprise. “We should go back to Lasan. If the New Republic won’t go, _we_ should.”

“What?”

“With the Empire still out there?”

“Not when we’re safe here!”

The protests arose from all sides, such that Kallus couldn’t keep up with who was saying what. Still, it was abundantly clear that no one was tempted by the prospect.

Kallus supposed that made sense. The Empire was still out there, if greatly weakened. It was theoretically still seeking lasats to kill or enslave. Why _would_ they leave their safe little enclave to risk what might be nothing more than a trap? These were refugees, civilians, not warriors ready to fight.

But he and Zeb were, weren’t they?

Zeb bent down and Chava said something in his ear that Kallus couldn’t hear.

“I’ll go,” he said once Zeb straightened again. “You and I, we’ll go together.”

There was a new light in Zeb’s eyes when he heard Kallus.

“Yeah, we will,” he said. “We’re going back to Lasan.”


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for blood/injury
> 
> More Lasana!
> 
>  _Zaman/Zami_ = grandmother

Their stay on Lira San was a blur to Zeb. He’d made his decision quickly, but he meant it.

He just had to parse through it later.

Zeb had to admit the general wisdom of the refugees – _we’re safe here, so we should stay_ – was correct. They were all civilians: traders and teachers and scientists who just happened to be away from Lasan with their families when it all came crashing down. They weren’t warriors, even if they came from a warrior society.

But _Zeb_ was a warrior. He was Captain of the High Honor Guard, protector of Lasan and its people. If anyone should be the first to return to their planet, it ought to be him.

It didn’t matter that the others weren’t interested. What bolstered his resolve were Chava’s words to him while the other refugees dithered.

“ _You are the Child, the Warrior, and the Fool of **Lasan** , Garazeb. There your fate lies_.”

Why Chava hadn’t bothered to mention that earlier, Zeb couldn’t say, but after the initial flash of irritation that usually accompanied anything she said, he felt invigorated.

Going back to Lasan made more sense than nearly anything else had in the past couple of months.

The Empire was dying. From what Hera had said, it was imploding even without the New Republic’s help. The remnants were too focused on surviving to care about a few lasat stepping foot on Lasan again.

Lira San, idyllic as it was, as much as it should have felt like home to Zeb, was just not somewhere Zeb really fit in. Even the prospect of Kallus moving back into the bedroom wasn’t enough to make it more than superficially comfortable. He wanted _Lasan_ back and Lira San was nothing but a shimmery reflection, distorted with time and distance.

And to top it off, _someone_ ought to find out what happened to the Imperial regiments on Lasan. Had pirates taken them out? Smugglers? A rogue Rebel group? _Some lasat refugees Zeb never found_?

Zeb needed to know.

And hearing that Kallus was willing to go with him…

Well, he knew that Kallus seemed to actually enjoy Lira San. He felt welcomed on the planet, in the community. He liked the food, he’d picked up the language, and he seemed content and sure of himself in a way Zeb hadn’t seen since before Bahryn.

Zeb recognized that Kallus was giving up a lot to come with him to a planet that should reject him outright.

Not that there was anyone left to reject him. Just Zeb – and Zeb was attempting to do the opposite of rejecting.

Not long after the Ollira meeting disbanded, they’d been summoned to the palace; apparently Chava had informed the queen of their news and decision.

It hadn’t taken much to convince the head of the Queen’s Guards – and therefore Queen Kirahan herself – that an investigation of what happened on Lasan had merit. The queen had been more than willing to bless their trip with funds and food and other supplies, although she declined to send any of her Guardsmen with them.

That was fine with Zeb. He and Kallus were more than sufficient for a reconnaissance mission.

And so, two days after returning to Lira San, they were off again, barreling at lightspeed toward Lasan. They’d picked a tricky route, skirting the edge between the Core and the Unknown Regions. Sure, it was dangerous flying through Imperial-controlled areas, but it cut three days off the safer, more roundabout route through the Outer Rim and Zeb was anxious to get there.

Not that time on the ship alone with Kallus was a hardship.

Something had changed for them both on the trip to Chandrila. Kallus had easily agreed to join Zeb back in the bed pit and seemed more comfortable around him – more likely to hook his foot around Zeb’s leg when they sat at the table, more likely to brush his fingers through Zeb’s fur as he walked by, more likely to smile when he caught Zeb’s eye.

More likely to lean in and give Zeb a kiss anytime they happened to be close enough, which happened quite often.

It was all incredibly intimate, even though they hadn’t established anything beyond “I want you.” Zeb knew he loved Kallus with all his heart, but he didn’t know if Kallus felt the same way. And if he didn’t feel the same way, Zeb didn’t want to break the spell. If all Kallus wanted was a physical relationship, Zeb would happily take what he could get.

They were on Kallus’s bed, Zeb sitting wrapped around him, plotting their first moves on Lasan when the fifteen minute warning ping sounded.

Kallus sighed, leaning back against Zeb’s chest, nimble fingers playing with the hems of Zeb’s bodysuit. “I suppose we ought to prepare ourselves more than verbally,” he said.

“Maybe,” Zeb allowed. “If you really think we’ll run into anyone down there.”

“What do you think happened? The Empire pulled back voluntarily?” Kallus asked.

“You’d know better than me,” Zeb pointed out, shrugging. “Didn’t Hera say it’s sorta self-destructing now?”

“Mm, I really couldn’t say,” Kallus said. “There were rumors of such an operation laid down, but I never gave them much credence.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Zeb laughed. “Kal, listen to rumors?”

Kallus thumped his knee. “I listened to plenty of rumors in my career. Couldn’t do my job for either the Empire or the Rebellion if I hadn’t. I just didn’t believe the Emperor would actually try to take down his own Empire.” He paused, letting a hand drop to stroke Zeb’s thigh. “Then again, there were lots of things I didn’t know about the Empire.”

Zeb gave him a squeeze, arms wrapped around the human’s chest. “You learned enough,” he said quietly, speaking right into Kallus’s ear. “And I’m glad you did.”

Kallus fidgeted, making Zeb loosen his grip, and stood, reaching back to pull Zeb to his feet. “Come on, let’s get ready to land.”

‘Getting ready to land’ involved loading up on weaponry – blasters and vibroblades for Kallus, bo-rifle and detonators for Zeb – and waiting for the _Glimmer_ to drop from hyperspace.

Zeb tensed as the chrono ticked down. The ship shuddered briefly and the swirls of hyperspace resolved into streaks and then into points of stars.

Lasan hung before them, a planet of vast continents, streaked with deep greens and reddish-browns, and blue-green seas with gray clouds swirling in the skies above. It wasn’t as _objectively_ beautiful as Lira San, not from space, but to Zeb–

–it was breathtaking. Quite literally; he froze, forgetting how to breathe as he looked up on his birth planet for the first time in nearly twenty years.

Next to him, Kallus said nothing, letting Zeb take in the sight in silence.

From space, he couldn’t see the ruins of cities or roaming herds of beasts that he knew dotted the surface. All he could pick out were the thick forests like the one he’d been born in, the deserts that caused the dust seasons, and the oceans where fleets of lasat had once sailed across choppy waters, following the migratory patterns of fish.

Where they sat, far above the surface, Zeb could imagine the planet as it was, full of laughter and color and _life_.

It was tempting to stay in space, to pretend nothing happened.

But that wasn’t why they were there, was it? He and Kallus were there to land, to explore what was left, to see if any life remained, be it human or animal.

“To Ithdasira,” Zeb said softly. It was the place Zeb had been taken from, so it only make sense to return there.

Kallus nodded and pulled up a holomap of Lasan, selecting the site of the capital city. The _Glimmer_ ’s sublight engines cut in, gliding toward the planet.

“Huh,” Kallus said. “She’s locked onto a signal from Ithdasira. Droids still working the spaceport?”

“Maybe,” said Zeb, although his fur stood on end at the news. “Or a trap left by the Empire. Follow it in.”

Kallus nodded and guided the _Glimmer_ into the upper atmosphere, skirting across the sky toward Ithdasira. They flew over a large forest that was familiar to Zeb – it was the site of many tiny tree settlements surrounding the capital, one of which he’d been born in – and then, flying low over the trees, burst past the forest and over the ruins of Ithdasira.

They weren’t as bad as Zeb remembered, but his memories of those last two days were twisted and out of focus. All he really recalled were the ion disruptors and that last bomb that took out the palace.

The palace. The once-elegant building was now a large pile of rubble, dust blowing away in the wind as the _Glimmer_ sat down nearby. Zeb stared out the viewport, forcing himself to breathe steadily as Kallus powered down the ship.

“The ramp’s lowered,” Kallus said quietly. “Take your time.”

Zeb nodded, too afraid he’d break down to say anything aloud.

Had this been a terrible idea? Was he really up to setting foot on Lasan once more? Seeing the irrefutable evidence of his greatest failure?

Not that the refugees blamed him. He hadn’t figured that one out; they _ought_ to blame him, but they didn’t.

Zeb blamed himself still, no matter what they thought.

He swallowed, blinking away tears. “Let’s go,” he said.

Unholstering his bo-rifle, Zeb gripped it tightly as he headed down the ramp, the _smell_ of Lasan hitting him full in the face.

The humidity was thick, the air full of green scents - _life_. The trills and calls of birds and feral tookas filled his ears, signaling that not _everything_ had died on Lasan when the Empire attacked.

The tears returned, but this time they were accompanied by a smile.

Kallus followed him down the ramp, looking at a holomap projected from his wristband. A small light blinked near the city center. “That’s the signal,” he said. “I’m going to go check it out.”

“You mean _we’re_ going to go check it out,” Zeb corrected.

Kallus gave him a lopsided smile. “No, _we’re_ not. I’m going to run over there and back. It should only take me fifteen minutes, tops. You need to explore at your own speed today.”

Zeb nodded. Kallus was right; he didn’t want to run through the city right away. He wanted to move slowly, pay his respects to those he’d left behind.

“I’ll be right back,” Kallus promised. Without waiting for a response, he turned and ran off, following the map.

Zeb watched him go, then made himself face the ruins of the palace. On the ship, in his trunk, he had a bag of dust – one of only two things he’d brought with him when his _Zaman_ found him and forced him to leave before the Empire made another strike.

There, before him, were heaps of that dust. The rubble of the palace stones mixed with the remains of the people who’d been hiding inside. The Queen and her family, children of Ithdasira, even Zeb’s family – he had seen some of his own siblings run for cover in the palace.

He bent, drawing a finger through the dust, saying a prayer to the Ashla for their souls.

A loud _bang_ and a scream echoed through the city.

Zeb stood suddenly, ears zeroing in on the sound.

It came from the city center.

* * *

Kallus had been shot by many different types of blasters. He’d been stabbed with vibroblades. He’d been tortured. He’d had numerous injuries by nearly as many different methods over the years.

He’d never been shot with a slugthrower before.

It had taken him a moment to realize what the piercing pains in his chest were, what the loud sound meant; he’d never felt anything like it.

Looking down, he saw blood leaking through his clothes. He tried to staunch the bleeding with a hand, but there was too much and it dripped from between his fingers.

Reaching out to the nearest wall, Kallus tried to support himself, but slid to the ground anyway. _Kriff_ , it hurt.

Footsteps rounded the corner and Kallus looked up, expecting to see the missing Imperial regiment.

Instead, he saw lasat.

Two of them, one purple and one tan, taller than Zeb though not any more muscular, dressed in ratty-looking clothes.

Kallus looked at them warily. “I’m not–”

“Quiet!” said one of them, aiming a– a _crossbow_ , of all things, at him.

The purple one handed off the slugthrower, knelt in front of Kallus, and grabbed him by the chin. Forced to look at his face, Kallus noted some similarities to Zeb, but tried not to think that. All lasat didn’t look alike. He was better than that. “So the Empire sent you to look for its missing men?”

“No,” Kallus hissed. “I’m not Imperial.” _Anymore_.

A third lasat approached. “He’s got a slave with him.”

“Not Imperial, huh?” the purple lasat asked. His ears were nicked and Kallus could see the start of a large scar at his neck, running beneath his shirt. Other scars decorated his arms and feet.

“Not… slave!” Kallus protested, gasping for breath. Every inhale and exhale was punctuated by another sharp pain. Had the pellet nicked his lungs? Better that than his heart. “Friend.”

The lasat laughed and grabbed Kallus by the front of his clothes, hauling him to his feet. “Not likely.” He looked at the others. “Go get the slave. We’ll let them dispose of their master back at the village.”

Kallus’s wrists were bound with a fiber rope and he was jerked along behind the lead lasat until they reached some saddled beasts Kallus didn’t know; probably some native fauna he’d never learned about. He was forced onto one – almost gratefully, as the pain in his chest was becoming unbearable – and they rode out of the city.

At least they said they were going to get Zeb. Zeb would straighten all this out.

If Zeb got there in time.

Kallus slumped forward in his saddle and tried to assess the damage. There seemed to be just one pellet-hole and from the way he was now struggling to draw full breaths, it felt like it _had_ nicked his lung after all.

It took so much concentration just to breathe and stay upright that Kallus barely noticed when they entered the forest, much less when they entered the village. He was dragged off the saddled beast and dumped unceremoniously in a bloody pile near a central fire pit.

The purple lasat yanked his head up, forcing Kallus to look at him. “You’re a pretty one,” he said. “For a human.”

Kallus tried to think of a smart comeback, but his mind was fuzzy and slow. He snarled instead.

The lasat laughed. “Oh, you think you have fangs and claws, don’t you?”

One of the tan lasats came loping up behind the purple one. “Kafzyr, they’re bringing the slave. You– you need to see who it is.”

“Watch him,” Kafzyr instructed and Kallus watched him walk to the edge of the platform, waiting for the other lasat.

And Zeb.

Zeb reached them first, running through the forest, launching himself off the ground and up onto the main village platform.

Kallus saw the moment he laid eyes on Zyr: Zeb looked astonished.

“Kafzyr!” he cried.

“Garazeb,” Kafzyr said, much more restrained though no less shocked in expression. “I thought you were dead.”

Zeb stiffened, mirroring Kafzyr’s cold nature. “I thought I was, too, until _Zami_ got me off-planet.”

Kafzyr gave a short chuckle. “Appreciate you comin’ for me.”

Zeb shook his head. “That’s my fault. I thought you were in the palace. I saw you and Jen run in.”

“Jen was in there,” Kafzyr said. “But I got out before the bomb went off.”

Zeb looked around the village, but didn’t seem to see Kallus slumped to the ground behind the two tan lasat. “I smell human blood, Kafzyr. What have you done?”

“Oh, that?” Kafzyr asked. “That’s your master. He’s hurt, but we saved him for you to finish off.” He stepped aside and pointed at Kallus. 

Kallus tried to raise his head, but that took energy he didn’t have.

Zeb made a strangled noise and surged forward. “That’s not my master, that’s my m–”

Kafzyr grabbed Zeb, stopping him from reaching Kallus. “He’s your what, little brother?”

 _Little brother_. _That_ explained the conversation. That explained the visual similarities.

“ _He’s my friend_ ,” Zeb growled.

In his last thoughts, Kallus’s mind pointed out that ‘friend’ didn’t start with an ‘m’. There was only one ‘m’ word that made sense.

 _Zeb had almost called him his mate_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have begun a class for the semester, so expect updates to be a little more spaced out than they have been so far! Shouldn't be too long, but I don't know that I can keep up every other day.


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued CW for blood and medical treatment of an injury.
> 
> More of Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana!
> 
>  _Arkesana_ – spiritual leader  
>  _Sadan’aki_ – little brother  
>  _Zami_ – grandmother  
>  _Aman_ – mother  
>  _Adan_ – father

Zeb wrested himself from Kafzyr’s grip, lunging forward toward Kallus.

The human had collapsed on the ground; a bloody, limp mess.

For a horrifying second, Zeb thought Kallus had died, but he was still struggling to breathe and breathing meant he wasn’t dead, not yet. Zeb rolled Kallus onto his back, tearing through his shirt to see the wound. It was a roundish hole, bubbling blood, not a wound Zeb was familiar with.

“What did you do, Kafzyr?” Zeb asked, low and menacing despite the utter panic he felt.

Kafzyr was nonplussed. “Shot him, just like we do all Imperials.”

“ _Shot him_? With _what_?” Zeb glared vibroblades at his brother. “He’s not Imperial, not anymore, so you shouldn’t have shot him at all! He’s just a _human_.”

“‘Not anymore’?” Kafzyr asked.

 _Karabast_. Zeb had said too much. “Kal fought next to me in the Rebellion for years,” he argued. “He’s a _good man_.”

Kafzyr knelt by Zeb, looking him in the eye. “But he used to be Imperial, didn’t he? He was part of the system that razed this planet and killed us all, wasn’t he? Can you argue against that?”

Zeb shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he _used_ to be, Kafzyr! He’s _dying_.” Zeb grabbed his brother’s arm. “If you care about me at all, you’ll help him.”

Kafzyr snarled. “No. I won’t be guilted into helping an Imperial, no matter how he has you fooled. If you want him alive, you can help him yourself.”

“Kafzyr!” Zeb begged. “Please!”

Pulling away, Kafzyr stood and stalked off. “You’re on your own, Garazeb.”

Zeb recoiled. The Kafzyr he remembered growing up had been caring, concerned with helping better the galaxy at large. He’d been a bit overprotective, maybe, but he had a big heart.

He didn’t seem to have one anymore.

Zeb didn’t have time to try to delve into what had happened to his brother, though. He cradled Kallus’s head with one hand and examined the would with his other. “At least tell me what you shot him with.”

“Slugthrower,” Kafzyr said. “Lead slug. Probably a dirty one as it’s a little hard to get supplies here after the Imperials like him were through.”

 _Slugthrower_. Not a blaster bolt, but a physical projectile. Zeb checked Kallus’s back – no exit wound, so the slug was still inside him.

He thought quickly. There was bacta on the _Glimmer_. Not enough to heal him all the way, but maybe enough to stabilize him and get him to another planet with medical facilities.

Zeb scooped Kallus up in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest despite the blood. “I’m taking him back to our ship,” he announced. “Try not to shoot us again.”

Kallus was heavier than he’d been on Bahryn, thanks to hearty Rebel and Lira Sana diets, but Zeb didn’t let himself pay any attention to that. He grabbed one of the saddled slonteles and set Kallus atop it before climbing up behind him. One arm firmly around Kallus’s chest – carefully not squeezing his wound – Zeb set off for Ithdasira.

The slontele loped through the forest and Kallus gave little grunts as the beast moved; Zeb tried to take heart, reminding himself that the noises meant Kallus was hanging on.

They pulled up short in front of the _Glimmer_ and Zeb pulled Kallus out of the saddle, carrying him bridal-style up to the captain’s cabin.

A small group of feral tookas were exploring the ship when Zeb walked in; they hissed and fled to hide in the cockpit. Zeb paid them little mind, kicking at one that tried to nip at his foot.

Once Kallus was on the bed, Zeb dashed for the medkit. Kallus always kept it well-stocked, he knew, and Zeb prayed there’d be enough bacta.

First, though, he had to get that slug out of Kallus’s chest.

It was harder than it sounded; Zeb ended up on the bed with his back against the wall, holding the glowrod with a foot while he tried to find the slug without hurting Kallus anymore. It took him a few minutes but he managed it, throwing the offensive metal lump across the room as soon as he got it clear of Kallus’s chest.

Next came bacta. Assuming it was the same as a vibroblade wound, Zeb poured bacta into the wound, covering it with a bandage.

That done, Zeb finally allowed himself to breathe. He’d done everything he knew to stabilize Kallus. It remained to be seen if it was enough.

Should he take them off-planet? The closest human planet was Elshandruu Pica, a resort planet. Surely it’d have med centers as well as hotels and clubs.

Kallus groaned, shifting on the bed.

“Kal!” Zeb shifted so he was on his knees and held the human’s face in his hands, watching as golden eyes fluttered open again. “Kal, I’m so sorry. I shoulda gone with you. I never shoulda left you alone. I’m gonna get us outta here. We’re gonna get you to a med center.”

“No,” said Kallus weakly, breathing dangerously shallow. “That was… brother?”

“Yeah, that was my brother. He didn’t know who you are. He’s turned into a _sleemo_ , it seems.” Paying no attention to the blood in his fur, Zeb stroked Kallus’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I got the slug out and some bacta in you, but you need better treatment.”

Kallus reached up and pushed Zeb’s hands away. “No… don’t leave… family.”

“Well, you can’t go without me,” Zeb protested. “I’m not gonna let you pilot this thing in the state you’re in. I’m going with you and that’s that.”

“Zeb,” Kallus said feebly, still struggling to draw breath. “Don’t worry about… me.”

“Kriff that!” Zeb said, lifting Kallus’s head up just enough that he could kiss the human’s forehead.

Kallus closed his eyes again. “If anyone… kills me… should be lasat… only fair.”

Zeb felt a swell of indignant anger. “No one’s gonna kill you, not on my watch!”

As if Zeb hadn’t said anything, Kallus continued. “Shoulda said… wanted you… earlier…”

Laughing desperately, Zeb leaned in and kissed Kallus. Quickly, so he didn’t accidently exacerbate anything, but firmly, so Kallus knew he meant it. “Kal, you’re my life. I love you. I _cannot_ lose you now, not when we just got our act together.”

Kallus smiled a little. “Love? Sure?”

“I’m more sure of that than anything else in my life.” Zeb stroked blond hair from Kallus’s face. “Don’t you dare try to argue that you don’t deserve it.”

“I –”

“I said _don’t_.”

Kallus reached up and held Zeb’s hand. “ _I love you too_ , Zeb.”

Warmth bloomed in Zeb’s chest and he couldn’t help the smile that burst across his face. “Then let me get you to a med center, Kal.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat in the ship’s main hall caught Zeb off-guard. He hadn’t heard anyone following him.

Then again, he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but Kallus.

A smaller lasat stood there, young with thick hair, her purple stripes not yet at their deepest coloration.

Aware that they’d just been caught in what might be a very compromising position, Zeb leaned over Kallus protectively. “What do you want?” he barked.

“Is he really an Imperial?” she asked, looking a little intimidated.

Zeb sighed. “No. He was a Rebel, like me.”

Kallus coughed, wincing. “Used to be,” he corrected. “Left.”

“He almost got himself killed spying on the Empire for us,” Zeb said, glaring at Kallus to keep his mouth shut.

The stranger nodded, seeming to accept Zeb’s assurances. “I’m a healer,” she explained. “May I look at him?”

“Did my brother send you?” Zeb asked, eyes narrowed. He had no clue what Kafzyr’s motivations were at the moment and he didn’t care to find out until Kallus was better.

“No,” she said. “I came on my own. I, uh, I’m Tarkorra. And you’re Captain of the High Honor Guard.”

“I was,” Zeb said. “Don’t guess I’m captain of anything anymore.”

To his relief, she didn’t argue with him.

Zeb sighed. “If you’re really a healer, please help me. He’s trying to tell me he doesn’t need to go to a med center off-planet.”

“You called him your friend, so let me see what I can do.” Tarkorra sat on the side of the bed opposite Zeb and peeled off Zeb’s bandaging. “Bacta?” she asked, touching the viscous gel that surrounded and filled the wound.

“Yeah,” Zeb said. “Think it’ll help? There’s a little more if you need it.”

“Maybe.” Tarkorra looked up at Zeb almost apologetically. “We haven’t had bacta here to use in over fifteen years. I never trained with it.”

There was something to unpack there, but Zeb didn’t have the mental focus to do it yet – he was still too focused on getting Kallus out of danger. “So what do you do?”

“First, we need to get the slug out.”

Zeb pointed at the bloody bit of metal on the floor. “Got that.”

Tarkorra nodded and rummaged in the pouch slung across her shoulder. She pulled out some low-tech contraption: what appeared to be a listening device from the way she stuck one end of the tube in her ear. It wasn’t anything Zeb was used to seeing, but he didn’t have any medic training beyond the basics. Tarkorra pressed the other end of the device against Kallus’s chest and nodded. “There’s air outside his right lung. We need to get it out so he can breathe.”

“Do it,” Kallus said.

“You don’t even know what that entails,” Zeb fussed. “He looked at Tarkorra. “What does that mean?”

“It means I have to suction out the air. A straw or tube of any sort.” She looked at Kallus apologetically. “It’ll hurt, I’m sorry.”

Kallus shook his head. “Can handle… pain.”

Zeb didn’t argue that time. Kallus wasn’t lying about being able to withstand pain and if a little of that was what it took to get him breathing again, it would be worth it. “Let me check the galley for something you can use.”

For the first time, Zeb cursed the fact that Kallus was meticulous about keeping his ship free of clutter. The _Ghost_ was typically clean, but the drawers were filled with a jumble of everyone’s belongings, meaning Zeb would be more likely to find a needed odd item. 

Finally, after a frantic search of the cabinets, Zeb found a small box of metal drinking straws. Hopefully they were what Tarkorra needed.

The young woman took one and warned Kallus again about the pain before sliding it into his wound, through the bacta and into his chest.

Kallus hissed and squeezed Zeb’s hand as Tarkorra worked, breathing in as she instructed. She suctioned the air out and Kallus began to breathe deeper – and so did Zeb.

Tarkorra patched Kallus back up again, using the ship’s medkit to seal the wound, wrapped bandages around his torso, and gave him a drink to stave off pain. As she finished up, she marveled at some of the equipment in the _Glimmer_ ’s medkit. “I’ve never seen one of these,” she said, holding up a small scanner.

Zeb stroked the hair back from Kallus’s face as the human’s eyes closed again. This time, at least, it was sleep, not unconsciousness.

“We had those before,” Zeb said quietly, trying not to disturb Kallus.

“Well, yeah,” Tarkorra said. “There were a lot of things on Lasan before that we don’t have anymore. Most of the med centers were bombed, but even if we had equipment left, we don’t have any way to power it.”

 _That_ was the thought that had been niggling at the back of Zeb’s mind ever since Tarkorra said she’d never used bacta. The lasat on Lasan were living primitive lives, with only the most basic medicine and housing.

“How long have you been on Lasan?” Zeb asked. “The Empire didn’t leave anyone alive.”

Tarkorra paused. “I think you’d better talk to _Arkesana_ Kafzyr about that,” she said hesitantly. “You’re his brother, right?”

“Yeah,” said Zeb. “He’s my older brother. It was him and then my twin sister Jenobra and I.”

“He’s told stories about you,” she said. “We all thought you were dead.”

“I thought _he_ was.” Zeb frowned. “But he seems to have changed.”

Tarkorra shrugged, but her eyes hardened. “I was only a kit when the attack happened, so I don’t know what he was like before. But he’s kept us alive and together.” She packed the medkit back up. “You should talk with him.”

“But –” Zeb gestured to Kallus.

“He should live if he doesn’t get an infection,” she said. “And since you had bacta, that should help. Best thing for him is to rest.”

“I’m not leaving him yet,” Zeb said firmly. “If Kafzyr wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

“Okay.” Tarkorra looked at Kallus again. “Is he your mate?” she asked bluntly.

“What?” Zeb hadn’t expected that question.

“I heard you say you loved each other. Are you mates?” She glanced up at Zeb and he saw sincere interest in her eyes.

“We’re courting,” Zeb said. “Humans call it dating. But –”

“But you want him to be,” Tarkorra finished, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Zeb said, echoing the smile. “I want him to be my mate. I have for years. He’s special, even for a human.”

She nodded. “I won’t say anything to _Arkesana_ Kafzyr. He won’t like it.”

Zeb studied her. Of all the lasat to follow him and overhear his conversation with Kallus, it was a young romantic.

Could be worse.

“Thank you,” he said. “Please tell my brother I’ll talk with him in the morning. I don’t want to leave Kal alone tonight.”

She nodded. “I’m heading back to Velencia, then. Come get me if you need me.”

“Wait.” Zeb plucked the comlink from Kallus’s belt. “Take this. It’s a comlink, already dialed into my frequency. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Tarkorra studied the comlink curiously before tucking it away in her sack. “I hope he has an easy night,” she said before ducking out of the room.

Zeb looked down at Kallus. “I hope so, too.”

The night was a long one. Zeb tried to sleep next to Kallus, but whenever his breathing changed – a slight hitch or a difference in depth – it jerked Zeb back awake.

Still, Zeb refused to leave Kallus’s side until after dawn.

At that point, exhausted, he _needed_ to get out of the bedroom and stretch. Kallus was fast asleep still, so Zeb left the bedroom, sliding down the ladder to the ramp.

He stood in the early morning mist, recalling his Honor Guard days. Many a morning just like that one, he’d stood guard outside the palace, before his promotion to captain.

He heard a slontele nicker somewhere off to the right. Zeb watched as a vague blur sharpened into an image of his brother, riding his way.

Kafzyr slid off the slontele, dropping the reins and approaching Zeb, who tensed, unsure of what his brother would do.

He needn’t have worried; Kafzyr simply embraced him, as they probably should have done to start with.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Garazeb,” Kafzyr said. “I would like to hear your story sometime.”

Zeb heard sincerity in Kafzyr’s voice, but he also heard some cold durasteel. “I’m interested in your story as well. Everyone’s story. How did you survive? When did you come back to Lasan?”

“Come back?” Kafzyr laughed. “ _Sadan’aki_ , we never left.”

 _Never left_. Those words sent a chill down Zeb’s spine. “You’ve been here all along?” he asked. “Kafzyr, if I’d known, I’d’ve come for you. I’d’ve come for you all!”

Kafzyr eyed him warily. “You would have? Where would you have taken us? Out into space, to be hunted?”

“You’d be surprised,” Zeb said. Kafzyr raised a brow questioningly and Zeb continued. “Lira San. It’s real. It’s real and I’ve been living there with others of our people.”

“ _Lira San_?” Kafzyr laughed again. “Oh, Garazeb, I never thought you’d become one of those mystics.”

“I’m not,” Zeb said, a little baffled. Growing up, _Kafzyr_ had believed in Lira San and Zeb had scoffed. _Kafzyr_ had been one of Chava’s acolytes before the attack. “I truly have been there. The human with me helped me find it – and then helped me find other lasat to relocate there, where it’s safe.”

“If it’s so _safe_ , then why are you here?” Kafzyr asked.

For some reason, Zeb didn’t feel comfortable telling Kafzyr the whole truth, at least not yet. Not until he knew the sort of man his brother had become. “We heard about the regiments here disappearing and came to investigate. Have you kept up with the war off-planet?”

Kafzyr nodded. “When we could steal comm equipment from the Imperials, we heard news. The Emperor’s death is what caused us to attack _them_ while they were in chaos.”

Zeb huffed. “They’re still in chaos. As far as we’re aware, they don’t plan on sending anyone to check out what happened here, at least not yet.”

“So, what?” Kafzyr asked. “You want to take us all to Lira San so we’re safe when they do come?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Zeb said, “since you _shot_ my friend and I had to focus on saving him. But that’s not a bad idea.”

Kafzyr shook his head. “Not going to happen. Unlike some people, we didn’t abandon Lasan. We _won’t_ abandon Lasan until they finally hunt down the last of us.”

 _Unlike some people_. “You realize _Zami_ and I thought you were dead? Along with _Aman_ and _Adan_ and Jen? We would have found you if we’d known.”

Kafzyr just stared at Zeb. “Where’s _Zami_?”

Zeb looked away. “She died about a year after the attack. Old age caught up to her finally.”

“So it’s just us?” Kafzyr asked in a bitter tone of voice.

“It’s just us.” Zeb looked up, out past the base of the _Glimmer_. “Is it just your village?”

“The village is called Velencia.” Kafzyr shook his head again. “But no. We’re in touch with about six other villages of survivors. We were originally all together but split up for safety.”

“And you’re in charge. _Arkesana_?”

Looking around, Kafzyr shrugged. “In name only. People looked to me when we came back together, but they needed someone to keep them alive, not drone on at them about the Ashla, especially since _it’s_ had nothing to do with _us_ since the attack.”

Zeb frowned. “What happened to you, Kafzyr? Chava would–”

“Chava isn’t here,” Kafzyr snapped. He jerked his head back to face Zeb. “Tell me about your pet Imperial.”

“He’s not–” Zeb stopped and sighed. “He’s not an Imperial, Kafzyr, and I wish you’d quit calling him one.”

Kafzyr continued to stare at Zeb. “But he used to be. You admitted that much.”

“He spied for us. He defected, just like a lot of other Rebels,” Zeb said, wondering how many times he’d have to make the same argument. “He’s a whole-hearted Rebel.”

“When?”

“What?” Zeb was confused.

“When did he defect? When did he switch sides?” Kafzyr asked.

 _Ah._ Zeb hesitated. “Six years ago.”

“Six years ago,” Kafzyr repeated. “I may not be a good judge of human age, but he’s got to be old enough he was of fighting age when we were attacked. That was more than six years ago, if you remember.”

Unconsciously, Zeb clenched his fists. Kafzyr was too clever sometimes. “I remember.”

“So was he an Imperial then?” Kafzyr asked, eyes hardening. “Was your _friend_ around for the genocide of our people?”

Zeb really wanted to lie, to say Kallus had nothing to do with the attack, but…

He would be betraying his honor if he lied.

“He was here,” Zeb said quietly. “He was just following orders. He’s since apologized and more than made up for it with the role he played in bringing _down_ the Empire.”

Kafzyr laughed, a cold sound echoing in the ruins of the palace. “Garazeb, _nothing_ will ever make up for what happened here. _Nothing_.”

Zeb gulped. Was he going to need to get Kallus off-planet for his own safety?

Sighing, Kafzyr pulled a small bundle from a pocket on his belt. “I didn’t come out here to fight, Garazeb. I came to bring you food. There’s enough for your friend, too.”

Zeb nodded. “Thank you.”

“Come to Velencia when he wakes up. Bring him if he’s up to it. The council wants to hear your stories.”

“To what end?”

Kafzyr shrugged. “To whatever end you have earned.”

Well, _that_ was ominous. Zeb hid his nerves, however. “We’ll be there.”

“Good.” Without a farewell, Kafzyr turned and mounted his slontele, leaving Zeb behind.

Zeb looked at the packet of food. Maybe he really did need to get Kallus out. Maybe he needed to get them _both_ out.

* * *

Breathing at all was still painful, but at least Kallus was able to draw full breaths when he woke up.

A glance at his chrono told him he’d slept the entire night and most of the day, too. It was late in Lasan’s day cycle. Whatever Tarkorra gave him had knocked him completely out for hours.

A slow check with his hands told him he was in his bed, alone, still in his bloody, ripped clothes. Was he also alone on the ship?

Moving hurt, too, but he managed to stand and make his way to the door of his cabin. Bright lights hit Kallus’s eyes as he palmed the door switch and it took him a moment to adjust.

Zeb sat by his door, head leaned back against the wall, napping with his bo-rifle in his lap and mouth agape.

Kallus smiled at the sight. Surely Zeb was being overprotective, but it was still heartwarming to see the care.

“Zeb,” he whispered, about all the volume he could manage at the moment. He caressed the short fur of Zeb’s brow gently, hoping to wake him easily. “I’m up. You can get up.”

Zeb blinked. “Kal?” he said.

Kallus nodded. “I’m awake. You don’t have to play guard.”

A dark look passed over Zeb’s face. “Jus’ being careful.”

Frowning, Kallus wondered what there was to be careful of. Surely, if that had been Zeb’s brother, things were fine. If Kafzyr was as honorable as Zeb, there oughtn’t to be any problems.

“I’m going to clean up,” Kallus said, motioning to his blood-stained and ripped shirt. “Is that okay?”

Zeb got to his feet. “Let me help,” he said.

“I can shower on my own,” Kallus said.

Zeb took his hand. “You can,” he agreed. “But let me help anyway.”

Kallus studied him for a moment. “Only if you tell me what happened while I was out of it.”

“Okay.” Zeb nodded and Kallus moved to let him into his cabin. Zeb followed as Kallus slowly made his way to his refresher. Once there, he stopped Kallus from taking off his shirt. “Do you really want to save it?”

Kallus thought. He didn’t have unlimited clothing, and he could probably patch up the shirt, but… “No.”

With his claws, Zeb carefully finished ripping the bloody shirt down the middle, making it easier for Kallus to take off without pain. Tossing the torn up shirt into the bin under the sink, Zeb checked Kallus’s bandages. “We’ll have to change those after,” he said.

Kallus didn’t argue. He was determined to take a water shower to really get all the blood and grime washed off, but the bandages weren’t waterproof, so changing them was really the best option. He undid his pants and let them drop to the floor, watching Zeb also get undressed.

Under other circumstances, that might be alluring, but Kallus couldn’t bring himself to think about sex. Not while it still hurt to move. 

Kallus let the water warm for a minute before stepping into the shower, back to the hot spray, and letting the water run over his shoulders and down his chest. He leaned forward, forearms against the wall, breathing in the steamy air.

Zeb stood in the open stall door and gently soaped up his hands, letting the short, stiff fur of his fingers scrub at Kallus’s skin. He massaged Kallus’s back and chest, cautiously avoiding the bandages.

Letting his head fall forward as Zeb ran fingers through his hair, Kallus sighed happily. For a moment, he almost forgot the promise Zeb had made.

Almost.

“Tell me what happened,” Kallus insisted.

“Well, my brother is still alive,” Zeb said. “That was a surprise. He’s been on Lasan this whole time, but the Empire has reduced them to near-primitive living, so no news ever got out.”

“And he’s got a thing against humans,” Kallus said wryly. “Good to know.”

Zeb grimaced. “I accidentally let slip you used to be Imperial. He guessed you were part of the attack. So, uh, he’s not your biggest fan.”

Kallus laughed, short and raspy. “Of course not. He reacted like you should have.”

Zeb grabbed Kallus’s face and made him look him in the eyes. “Don’t say that. I tried to kill you enough times before I figured out what kind of person you really were. He’ll figure it out, too.”

“He’s made a good start on trying to kill me.” Kallus gave a half-smile. “Better than you.”

Leaning in, Zeb kissed Kallus, holding his head the whole time. It was a desperate kiss, tender in its own way, but full of worry and stress and relief that Kallus was still alive. Water splashed off the back of Kallus’s head and Kallus could imagine Zeb’s ears twitching as the spray hit them.

“I love you, Kal,” Zeb said when he pulled back. “I’m not going to let him hurt you again. If you want, we’ll go back to Lira San. You just say the word.”

Kallus frowned. “You just found your brother alive and you’re talking about leaving him? No. We’re not doing that. I’ll live, thanks to you, so you need to be here with your family.”

“If you’re sure,” Zeb said. 

From the way his ears perked up, Kallus could tell that he really wanted to stay. “I’m sure.” Kallus bit his lip. “But…”

“But what?”

 _But you almost called me your mate_. “Is this okay here?” he asked. “Us, I mean. Is it all right for you to have a human… partner?”

Zeb sighed, going back to scrubbing at the last of the dried blood on Kallus’s chest. “Didn’t used to be a problem. Dunno about now. Don’t worry about it, though.”

Kallus shook his head. “I don’t want to get you into trouble with the others. If we need to be surreptitious, we can be.”

Zeb looked stricken and fell silent for a minute. Kallus patiently waited him out.

“Maybe,” Zeb said, letting his hand drop to Kallus’s stomach. “I hate to, but maybe until we know better how things are here.”

Kallus laid a hand atop of Zeb’s, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s fine,” he said.

“No, it ain’t,” Zeb said, sounding disgusted. “It’s anythin’ but.”

“But it’s what we need to do,” Kallus reasoned. “If they drive me out, that’s fine. But I want you to stay. You wanted Lasan back. You’ve found you still have family. What we have is nothing compared to that.”

Zeb growled softly. “No, it’s not. Kal, I told you, I chose you ‘cause I want you. Finding my brother is a nice surprise and I think I can help bring technology back to Lasan, maybe some more lasat even, but _I love you_ and want you right beside me as I do all that.”

Kallus turned slightly to let the last of the soap run off him. Zeb followed suit and rinsed his hands before grabbing a towel for Kallus.

Once he’d dried off a little and had the towel around his waist, Kallus reached up that little bit to kiss Zeb again. The lengths to which Zeb was willing to go for him were surprising, but perhaps not so if Zeb really considered him his mate.

Kallus needed to know, though. “One more thing,” he said.

Zeb looked at him apprehensively.

“You almost called me something other than friend,” he said slowly. “And I think I know what it was, but I need to hear it from you.”

Zeb held Kallus’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing his damp skin. “Are you sure?”

Kallus nodded. “I’m fine with hiding our relationship if we need to, but I’d rather do so knowing _what_ that relationship is, exactly. Are we simply kriffing or is there more there? How serious are you?” He bit his lip and looked straight into Zeb’s eyes, so wide and so green. “I’m serious, just so you know. It’s all right if you’re not, however.”

Zeb squeezed Kallus’s shoulders tighter. He visibly swallowed. “Mate. That’s what I almost said. It’s quick, I know, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve loved you for years now. Never said anythin’ but that’s ‘cause I was scared you didn’t feel the same.”

Kallus reached out, tangling his fingers in the soft fur of Zeb’s chest. He took a step closer. “Mate,” he said, still speaking quietly. “So is that like ‘husband’?”

“Yeah,” Zeb breathed. “Means you’re my final choice. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Mm,” Kallus said. “I would very much like to show you that you’re _my_ final choice, but I don’t think I’m up to it yet.”

Zeb wrapped his arms around Kallus and held him close, but not too tight. “You’re already showin’ me that. Anyone with brains would want to get off this planet, but you’re fool enough to want to stay – for _me_.”

Kallus closed his eyes and breathed in Zeb’s scent, all the more pungent because of his soggy fur. “I would do anything for you, Garazeb,” he admitted.

“Idiot,” Zeb said. He kissed the top of Kallus’s head. “Let’s get that dressing changed and you back in bed.”

“Only if you join me this time.”

Zeb smiled into Kallus’s hair. “Yeah. I think I can do that. And then, in the morning, we’ll try re-introducing you to my brother, mmkay?”

Kallus nuzzled into Zeb’s neck. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous about meeting Kafzyr again, but at least this next time, he’d have Zeb at his side.

And he could face anything, even another slug to the chest, with Zeb next to him.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Kallus-only chapter this time!
> 
> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana translation:
> 
> Sadan/Sadan’aki – brother/little brother

Kallus’s second trip to Velencia was much more pleasant than the first. He rode on a saddled beast – a slontele, Zeb told him, commonly kept by ranchers for riding and meat both – and while his chest still hurt, the bacta had healed him enough that the pain wasn’t excruciating.

Not that he’d have let mere pain stop him. He’d passed out from blood loss, not pain, and while that left him feeling weak and lightheaded, he was doing his best to stay aware and battle-ready.

Well, _evasion_ -ready. He didn’t want to have to defend himself against Kafzyr and the other lasat if they attacked him again, but he also didn’t want to die. Getting out of the situation quickly seemed the best plan.

Zeb rode next to him, guiding his slontele closer to Kallus as they neared the village.

They were met out front by two lasat with bo-rifles.

 _Honor Guard_ , thought Kallus. _Wonder if they’re real or if they picked up the bo-rifles after the siege_?

One of them, a female, holstered her bo-rifle on her back and gave Zeb the same sort of salute Zeb had first given Kallus on Bahryn. “Captain,” she said.

The other echoed the gesture and took hold of their slontele’s reins. Zeb slid off his mount and Kallus followed suit.

“Chaftin,” said Zeb, approaching the female. “I didn’t see you here earlier. I didn’t know–”

“I was on duty elsewhere when you arrived,” she said. “I didn’t believe it when they said you’d returned. We all thought you died with the palace.”

Zeb’s shoulders slumped a little. “I should have,” he said. “But I was just far enough away to survive and then get off-planet.”

Chaftin glanced at Kallus. “And you found new allies.”

“Yes.” Zeb straightened. “I’ve been fighting with the Rebellion. Kal here fought with me for years.”

“Kafzyr said he fought for the Empire,” she said, gaze turning accusatory.

Kallus sighed. “I did. But rather than me explain to everyone individually, is there a time the village comes together where I can be interrogated more easily?”

Chaftin smiled. “Kafzyr has arranged a community meeting. You’ll get your ‘interrogation’ then.” She stepped aside. “He’s waiting for you.”

Zeb nodded and set off. Kallus took long strides to keep up.

“She was part of your Honor Guard?” he asked.

“Yes. One of my lieutenants. Very talented at teaching, especially bo-rifle,” Zeb explained, leading the way to the staircase up to the next level of the village. Just like on Lira San, it featured rounded planks and circled a tree. “If they recreated the Honor Guard, they were lucky she survived. I can’t think of anyone better suited to train new recruits.”

“Of course we recreated the Honor Guard,” said Kafzyr, waiting for them at the top of the stairs. “We may have lost the royal family, but our people still needed protection.”

A pained expression crossed Zeb’s face at the mention of the royal family, but he recovered quickly. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Kafzyr looked at him almost slyly. “You’re not looking to take back over, are you? Chaftin might not want to give up the Captaincy.”

Zeb shook his head. “If I wanted to fight, I’d still be in the Rebellion. If I wanted to serve, I’d have joined the Royal Guard on Lira San. Ashla knows the queen tried.”

Now that Kafzyr wasn’t trying to kill him, Kallus took a moment to get a good look at him. He no longer felt bad about seeing a resemblance to Zeb; when the two stood next to each other, the familial relationship was undeniable. 

Kallus couldn’t say if Kafzyr or Zeb had had the rougher life, but it was obvious Kafzyr had gone without bacta treatment for most of his wounds – the large one peeking out from under his shirt looked like it had been nasty. Zeb had suffered injuries of the same scale, but prompt bacta treatment had prevented most scarring. He had some scars, to be sure – some _Kallus_ had given him, in fact – but they were less noticeable.

Kafzyr’s beard lined his jaw, not broken up like Zeb’s, and he was about ten centimeters taller than his brother, but the differences ended there. Zeb and Kafzyr held themselves similarly, spoke alike, had the same coloration of fur and stripes both, and both brothers had a permanently haunted look in their bright green eyes.

Kallus wondered if Zeb knew just how alike he was to his brother. If Kafzyr were friendlier, Kallus might have even called him handsome – but at the moment, he was far too dangerous for such considerations. Or the implications of such considerations.

Kafzyr’s gaze fixed on Kallus after a quick glance at his chest. “My brother tells me that you are his friend, despite your past. If that’s the case, I’m sorry I shot you.”

Unsure of how to respond, Kallus simply nodded.

He’d barely finished when Kafzyr’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, pulling Kallus in close. Kafzyr took a deep breath and laughed. “ _Friend_. Garazeb, I smell you all over him.”

Kallus did his best to keep a straight face, but inside he was terrified. What would Kafzyr do to him now?

Zeb shook his head. “Kafzyr, you _shot him_. I made sure he didn’t die, patched him up, and helped him get cleaned up – as you do for _friends_. Don’t read into something that isn’t there.”

A grin formed on Kafzyr’s face and he let Kallus go. “If you say so.” He gestured toward the center of the platform, the obvious village meeting place. Wooden benches circled a central fire pit and about fifty lasat of varying ages were already gathered there.

Kallus wondered how many of them Zeb already knew. If his brother and lieutenant survived… who else?

Zeb touched Kallus in the small of his back, leading him toward the meeting place. “They want our stories,” he whispered.

“The whole thing?” Kallus asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yeah.”

Taking a deep breath, Kallus followed Zeb and Kafzyr to one of the benches in the front. He could feel the eyes of the village on him.

They weren’t friendly.

Kafzyr picked up a stick from a small pile and placed it on the fire. Zeb did the same. After a nod from Zeb, Kallus also fed the flames. 

“Shows you mean well for the community,” whispered Zeb. “And we want all the goodwill we can get.”

 _Zeb’s worried about himself as well as me_ , Kallus realized. They might be in more trouble than Kallus had wagered on.

Kafzyr stood by the fire and looked out at the gathered lasat. “My brother, former High Honor Guard Captain Garazeb Orrelios, has returned to us alive. He has fought the Empire out in the galaxy, unaware that we were still here. In that time, he has become allies with this human.” Gesturing to Kallus, Kafzyr’s eyes narrowed. “A human that once served the Empire. A human that killed our people during the attack.”

Kallus tensed as a whisper ran through the crowd. The muscle movement pulled at his wound, but the shooting pain he felt was nothing to the dread that he wouldn’t make it out of this meeting alive. Either they would give him a death sentence or someone would assassinate him – and possibly harm Zeb for associating with him.

Zeb stood. “That’s not the full story, Kafzyr. We have nothing but honorable intentions. You all saw us feed the fire,” he said, sweeping his hand to take in all of the gathering. “We are your guests now. You must hear us out without harm.”

Kallus swallowed. A tradition of hospitality was good. They might live through this after all.

Kafzyr blinked slowly, predatorily. “That was true, Garazeb, but things have changed. We will hear you out, but the safety of Lasan comes before any boon owed to guests. We don’t have the luxury of welcoming just anyone anymore.”

Zeb didn’t back down. “Let me tell my story. Let Kal tell his story. _Listen_ and judge for yourself.”

Kafzyr motioned for Zeb to continue and then sat down next to Kallus. 

Unsure of what Kafzyr’s motives were, Kallus tensed further.

Zeb began talking, telling a story Kallus had only heard fragments of. How he realized there was a bomb in the palace but was too late to warn anyone. How his grandmother found him in the rubble and rushed them both off-planet. How they did small trading jobs in the Outer Rim to survive until his grandmother passed.

And then the story turned to things Zeb had never spoken of.

How he’d sold their ship and worked the docks. How he’d been spotted by a Hutt and taken as a slave. How he’d been forced to fight gladiatorial games for long enough he lost hope. How he regained that hope when a man named Kanan Jarrus freed him from his cage.

From there, the story was familiar, things Kallus had either studied about the Spectres or seen for himself. Zeb talked of Bahryn, only stopping when the Spectres had discovered Kallus was Fulcrum.

“Kal can tell you his journey to that point,” Zeb said, moving aside but not sitting. He stood there, arms crossed like a guard, as Kallus rose.

Standing close enough to the fire that the heat was uncomfortable, but with Zeb at his back, Kallus tried to piece together his story.

He talked of being recruited for the Republic Diplomatic School and how it became the Royal Imperial Academy. He talked of being funneled into the ISB without much choice, but how he didn’t mind because he’d been conditioned to think the Empire truly did bring order out of chaos.

Regretfully, he talked of Onderon. Even more regretfully, he had to mention Lasan.

He didn’t try to excuse himself, except to say he’d been a young agent still fairly fresh from Academy and ISB brainwashing. 

“We weren’t told it was supposed to be a genocide,” he said quietly. “We weren’t told what the T-7s would do.”

“That didn’t stop you!” called someone from the back.

Kallus hung his head. “No. It did not. And for that, I can never ask forgiveness. It’s a shame I must bear the rest of my life. My even greater shame is that I didn’t start to question the Empire’s claims of truth and order and peace until I spent that night on the ice moon with Garazeb. His sense of honor, his _mercy_ , his undeserved _kindness_ toward me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It was care I didn’t receive from my own parents.”

The lasat shifted in their seats, grumbling.

“Because of Garazeb, I questioned. I pursued the answers as relentlessly as I’d pursued the Spectres. What I found was deeply unsatisfying and I was led to the inevitable conclusion that the Empire I thought I served was nothing more than a façade. The true Empire was endlessly corrupt and cruel and unjust, particularly toward nonhumans.” Kallus sighed, wrapping his arms around his chest. “So I did the only thing that seemed honorable. I contacted the Rebellion and offered my services.”

“How many Imperials did you kill?” asked someone else. “If you changed sides?”

“None directly, not until later,” Kallus said. “But I provided the information that allowed the nascent Rebellion some major victories. Garazeb, for one, was personally responsible for exploding a proton bomb on a Star Destroyer using intel I sent him.”

“What you’re saying is you stayed with the Empire,” said a third lasat. “You didn’t cut and run.”

“I felt I was a better help serving as an inside man for the Rebellion than I would have as a direct agent,” Kallus said. “I truly planned to spy until I was caught and killed.”

“So what stopped you?”

Behind Kallus, Zeb growled.

“I _did_ get caught,” Kallus said. “I escaped in the midst of a battle and was picked up by Garazeb’s ship, completing my defection.”

“You were tortured,” Zeb said loudly. “Don’t forget that Thrawn tortured you just for the fun of it. You escaped while badly injured.”

Kallus nodded, biting his lip. “This is true. Thrawn didn’t need information from me; he merely needed me to know he’d won. He tortured me and then made me watch as he attacked the Rebellion’s base. If he hadn’t gone to the surface to gloat, I might never have had a chance to escape.”

“And after that, he worked hard for the Rebellion,” Zeb said firmly. “Fought hard, fought bravely, fought with honor. Tell ‘em about your bo-rifle.”

Zeb’s words sent another murmur through the group, this one surprised and a little angry.

“I– During the siege, I fought a Guardsman one-on-one,” Kallus said. “When I defeated him, he gifted me his bo-rifle. The _Boosahn Keeraw_. And I trained on it the best I could, giving the weapon as much deference as I could.”

“He and I were pretty evenly matched.” Zeb stepped forward to stand next to Kallus. “He is a warrior who earned his bo-rifle. If he hadn’t lost it escaping the Empire, he would be a fearsome fighter.”

A lasat in the back stood. “You earned a bo-rifle _while murdering our people_?”

Kallus felt his face color in shame. “I tried to honor the weapon,” he said, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

The lasat spat on the ground next to her. “ _Honor_ would have been to leave it lying with its true owner.”

Zeb bared his teeth. “I have vouched for his honor,” he said. “Do you doubt the word of the High Honor Guard?”

“But you’re _not_ High Honor Guard anymore!”

Zeb’s ears flattened and Kallus ached to reach out and soothe him. He knew the guilt Zeb still carried and these lasat were not helping.

Neither was his brother.

“Perhaps your friend can show us how well he wields the bo-rifle,” Kafzyr said. “Tomorrow, let’s say.”

Zeb turned on his brother. “He’s _injured_.”

Kafzyr was unmoved. “And when has that stopped a true warrior?”

Kallus stayed very still, hoping not to antagonize anyone beyond what his mere presence was already doing.

Zeb, on the other hand, was not so circumspect. “You asked us to tell our stories and you haven’t let him!” he said. “ _Everyone_ grows and changes and Kal is no different.”

“There are some things you don’t come back from,” Kafzyr said.

“ _Everyone grows and changes_ ,” Zeb repeated. “You remember Chava. You used to study under her. And even though she irritates the kriff out of me, she’s right. At some points in our lives, we’re all Fools, Children, and Warriors and you, right now, are being a Fool, Kafzyr!”

“Don’t throw that old prophecy in my face, _sadan’aki_ ,” Kafzyr growled.

Zeb huffed. “Why not? It turned out to be true. I already told you how we found Lira San – and how we never would have found it without Kal pursuing us. Chava was right then and she’s been right since. _You’re_ the one who seems to have lost the path.”

“And what? Lasan was supposed to move into the stars?” Kafzyr asked. “ _We_ didn’t get that choice. _We_ stayed here and fought for every inch of ground we have. _We_ stayed here when the rest of the galaxy – including you – forgot about us.”

Something broke in Zeb’s expression. “You really think I – or any other lasat – ever _forgot_ about Lasan? That we didn’t want to come home? _Sadan_ , those of us who left have been lost for years. Most of us were civilians who happened to be away, not warriors. They couldn’t face the Imperial garrisons that were here, especially when we had no reason to believe there was anything here to come back to.”

Kafzyr didn’t soften even a bit. “ _We were here_.”

“And _we didn’t know_ ,” Zeb said, equal amounts of durasteel in his voice. “I swear on the Ashla that if we’d known you were here, I’d’ve had the whole Rebellion battling to free Lasan. I can still go back and ask the New Republic for support – for medical supplies, for help rebuilding the cities, for protection from the last remnants of the Empire.”

“The Old Republic never did us much good,” Kafzyr pointed out. “Why would the new one bother to help us?”

“Because that was the mission of the whole Rebellion,” Kallus said quietly. “To help _all_ those hurt by the Empire. Lasan wasn’t the only planet wiped out and the New Republic is helping all those other worlds rebuild. There are refugees from Alderaan, Geonosis, and Jedha as well as Lasan that receive assistance from the New Republic. The difference for the lasat is that you have a world to go to. Two, actually: here and Lira San.”

“And why would we trust _humans_ again?” asked someone in the crowd. “Humans gave us the Empire. Humans killed us.”

“ _Palpatine_ gave us the Empire,” Zeb said. “The _Empire_ killed us. The Rebellion didn’t. You can’t judge all humans the same.”

“Can’t we?” asked Kafzyr. “They sentenced all of us to the same fate.”

“Will you just _listen_?” Zeb said, exasperated. “Listen to me and Kal before you judge us.”

Kafzyr gestured exaggeratedly for Kallus to continue. “You were saying?”

Kallus eyed him carefully. He didn’t really expect to be able to speak uninterrupted, but he also – somewhat strangely – didn’t want to just give in and let Kafzyr run him off, not when he and Zeb had just found themselves. He knew it might still happen, but he was going to fight it all the way down.

“I joined the Rebellion,” he said. “I helped out wherever they’d have me: intelligence, commandos, field missions. Eventually I found my spot running missions as a Fulcrum agent again, this time with my own ship and a whole crew. We worked together through the war, right up to the Battle of Endor where the Emperor died.”

Zeb motioned for him to elaborate and Kallus knew exactly what he was supposed to expound upon.

“One of my ongoing missions was finding lasat refugees hiding out in the universe and getting them to Garazeb, who took them to Lira San,” he said. “I managed to find and help upwards of fifteen families relocate, even though I never saw Lira San until after we retired from the New Republic.”

A familiar tan lasat stood and it took Kallus a second to recognize her as Chaftin, the new Captain of the Honor Guard. 

“Garazeb Orrelios may not be Captain Orrelios anymore,” she said, speaking to the group at large, “but I remember him as an honorable man, one whose word can be trusted. By his own accounting and the accounting of the human, it sounds like he still is. He was once one of the most honored among us and left that position because of the Empire, not because of any disgrace. Shouldn’t we listen to him? If he says this Kal has changed, shouldn’t we believe him?”

 _Yes_ , thought Kallus. _Trust Zeb if you can’t trust me_.

Another murmur ran through the crowd, this one sounding a little more positive.

“I trust you, Kafzyr,” said Tarkorra, joining Chaftin in standing. “But I trust your brother as well. I don’t think either of them mean us harm.”

For a moment, there was silence and Kallus held his breath. From the contemplative reactions of the other lasat, Chaftin and Tarkorra’s opinions held some real weight. That made sense; Honor Guard Captain and medic were positions that required high levels of trust from the community.

Kafzyr stepped closer to the fire and the two women. “The question is not only if they mean us harm,” he said. “We have to ask ourselves if their presence _brings_ us harm whether they mean it or not. If the Empire or the New Republic will arrive to finish us off. Do we allow them free passage? Do we ask them to leave? Do we ask for help? What do we do about the human?”

“He can leave!”

Tarkorra turned on the speaker. “He needs to heal first!” she insisted. “I treated him last night which makes him my patient. I would not sign him off to leave – _or_ to fight with bo-rifle – for weeks.”

“What honor is there in fighting an opponent who is already gravely wounded?” Chaftin asked, gesturing toward Kallus. “It’s the same choice Garazeb made six years ago and it sounds like that mercy was what brought Kal around. We should heed your brother’s wisdom. The human can fight when he is healthy.”

Zeb looked at his brother. “Let us stay while Kal heals,” he suggested. “During that time, you can decide if you want help from the New Republic or not. If not, then we will leave for good once Tarkorra says Kal is good to go.”

Kafzyr crossed his arms. “We’ll vote on it.” He looked around the group. “All in favor of asking my brother to leave?”

Some hands went up, but Kallus didn’t stop to count. He was too busy thinking about the implications of Kafzyr’s wording . “ _Asking my brother to leave_ ” did not necessarily include letting _Kallus_ leave. 

“And for re-evaluating once the human heals?”

It seemed like more hands went up that time, but it was a close thing.

Zeb sighed in relief, though.

Kafzyr nodded. “You can stay,” he said. “Sleep in your ship tonight and we will find you a place with us by tomorrow.”

Kallus desperately wished he could reach out and take Zeb’s hand, but he couldn’t. Not in public like this. Not when their status was so tenuous.

He took a deep breath and felt the pull at his wound. The bacta had taken the edge off the pain and jump-started the healing process but he was glad he – probably – wouldn’t be asked to fight the next day. He needed to have full range of motion again, for sure, but he also hadn’t handled a bo-rifle in five years, since he ran from the _Chimaera_. Maybe Zeb would train with him again as he healed.

Zeb touched his arm and motioned for him to follow. Facing his brother, he said, “I know you’d rather us leave entirely, Kafzyr, but come join us after dinner if you like. Talk to us in an easier setting, see if you change your mind.”

Kafzyr gave a cold smile. “We’ll talk tomorrow, _sadan’aki_. I hope you change my mind.”

Kallus followed Zeb back down to the forest floor and let Zeb help him up onto his slontele for the ride back to the _Glimmer_.

“Come on,” Zeb said darkly. “Let’s get you out of here before those ‘no’ votes decide to follow us.”

Agreeing silently, Kallus followed Zeb through the forest as the last light of days shone through the trees. Darkness surrounded them quickly and by the time they reached the _Glimmer_ , Kallus had to resort to using a glowrod to unlock the ramp.

As soon as the ramp closed behind them, Zeb reached out and pulled Kallus in, being careful not to squeeze too tightly. Kallus rested his head on Zeb’s shoulder, gathering stretchy jumpsuit material in his hands as he held on.

“How close were we to trouble?” he asked. Kallus thought he had an idea, but he recognized that Zeb could read the mood of the village better than he could.

“Pretty kriffin’ close,” Zeb said. “We lucked out that Chaftin and Tarkorra spoke up for us. Besides my brother – who’s _supposed_ to be a spiritual leader – they’re probably the most important people in Velencia.”

“Do _you_ want to stay?” Kallus asked gently. “Don’t make the decision because of me, but if you think we should leave, we can leave now.”

Zeb was quiet for a minute, then kissed Kallus on the top of his head. “As long as Chaftin and Tarkorra are for us, you’re safe. Even better if I can make things right with Kafzyr. But the moment you’re threatened, you tell me and we’ll leave.” He pushed Kallus back just far enough to look him in the eyes. “You’re more important to me than stayin’. We’ll leave, tell the New Republic, and then find somewhere else that wants us both.”

Kallus nodded. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary,” he said. “I’ll fight if I need to, but I may need a refresher on a bo-rifle first.”

Zeb gave a half-grin. “I think I can help ya there.” Big fingers ruffled Kallus’s hair. “You’ll be back to ass-kickin’ in no time.”

Kallus wasn’t so sure about that, but he smiled encouragingly. He patted Zeb’s chest. “Let’s see what I’ve still got stocked in the galley.”

“And then I’m takin’ you to bed,” Zeb said. “To make sure you _sleep_ , ‘cause you’re still hurt.”

Smiling, Kallus agreed. “Someday, taking me to bed will be a lot more exciting,” he added.

“Someday,” Zeb said, nodding. “But for now, I want to hold you and make sure you’re okay. And you’re going to let me.”

The instruction made Kallus instinctively want to argue, but he held his tongue. Instead, he pulled Zeb’s face down for a kiss.

And _there_. That strong, spicy taste that meant Zeb filled his mouth and at least for the moment, Kallus believed everything would be all right.

And for the night, it would be.


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana translations:
> 
>  _Mal_ – now  
>  _Adan_ – father  
>  _Djadan_ – uncle  
>  _Aman_ – mother

> _The large black weapon the Imperial wielded wasn’t exactly a rifle, nor was it a rocket launcher. Zeb was curious about it for three short seconds._
> 
> _Three seconds was how long the Guardsman next to him had to live._
> 
> _Three seconds before a ragged green bolt hit him and he disintegrated_ –

“Zeb!”

Gasping for air, Zeb jerked to awareness, barely able to make out Kallus’s worried features as he leaned over Zeb. Kallus was twisted in a way that Zeb assumed had to hurt his wound, but the human showed no sign of pain; he simply stroked Zeb’s face.

Zeb held his breath for a moment, trying to slow and regulate his breathing once more. “Sorry,” he said.

“Another nightmare?” Kallus asked gently. “That’s the third one tonight.”

Zeb turned his head toward Kallus. “I can go sleep in another cabin,” he offered.

“And let the nightmares be even worse?” Kallus shook his head. “No. I’d rather you wake me up so I can help.”

Zeb looked at the chrono built into the wall. It was morning already – early, but not too early to get up. “I think I’m through for the night,” he said. “With nightmares and with sleep.”

Kallus maneuvered Zeb’s arm so he could lay his head on it. Once Zeb was in place, Kallus settled in, idly petting the fur on Zeb’s chest. “You should sleep if you can,” Kallus said.

“Says the man with a hole in his chest,” Zeb said, arching his brows even though Kallus couldn’t see them.

Kallus didn’t have a response right away. When he finally did speak, it wasn’t about sleep. “Are you all right, Garazeb?”

The use of his full name there in the privacy of the _Glimmer_ made Zeb perk up. “What do you mean?”

Resting his hand over Zeb’s heart, “Your brother wasn’t exactly welcoming to either of us last night. Is that because of me?”

Zeb sighed and leaned back on the bed. “No. From what I can tell, he’s bitter I left the planet. I don’t know if he’s jealous or if he’s angry.”

Kallus’s hand ran up to cup Zeb’s chin, twining in his beard. “It’s not the reunion you wanted.”

“I never thought I’d _get_ a reunion,” Zeb corrected. “But when I saw him, I admit I thought it’d be a happy thing. We used to be close. Honor Guard and _Arkesana_ go well together. Our sister fit in too – she played politics and wanted to be a diplomat someday.”

Kallus huffed. “I hope she was better than you at that.”

“Hey!” Zeb thumped Kallus on the stomach with his free hand. “I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Kallus laughed briefly, but turned Zeb’s head toward him. “So what was Kafzyr like before?”

“Overprotective, mostly,” Zeb said. “Very spiritual. Think Gron without the martial past. He was one of Chava’s acolytes, knew all the tales of gods and goddesses and prophecies. _Arkesana_ s were keepers of our history, guardians of our futures. Us Honor Guard were there to protect the here and now, but Kafzyr was very future-minded. Had grand ideas of what Lasan would become in time.”

“He doesn’t seem that way now.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Zeb said darkly. “He seems to have abandoned the hopes he once had. Guess I can’t really blame him if he thought the lasat here were the only lasat left in the galaxy. Karabast, I felt the same way until I found out about Lira San.”

Kallus remained quiet and Zeb felt certain he was thinking of his own part in that discovery. He thought about calling Kallus out on it, but decided against it.

“Unless we get him on our side, I’m really not sure of our chances of being welcomed into the community here,” Zeb admitted. _I want to try, but if it puts you in danger, I won’t_.

As if he read Zeb’s mind, Kallus nodded. “We should try to win him over. I can be charming if necessary.”

Zeb burst into laughter. “Of course you can.” He slid his arm out from under Kallus and moved so he was propped over his lover. Leaning in, he touched their foreheads.

Kallus held Zeb’s head and rubbed their cheeks together, getting thoroughly scented.

“You know if you keep that up, you’re gonna have to shower before we head back to town,” Zeb murmured, leaning into the motion.

“Need one anyway,” Kallus said. “Might as well have you on me while I can.”

Zeb laid a trail of kisses from behind Kallus’s ear to his shoulder. “This gonna be covered?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kallus keened happily. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Mark me. Bruise or bite, whatever you want,” Kallus said. “Make me yours.”

The thought of properly marking Kallus sent a thrill through Zeb’s body, but it wasn’t the appropriate time. Instead, he sucked at the human’s tender skin, over the muscle of his shoulder, leaving him with a large reddish spot that would purple later. Maybe the persistent light soreness would keep reminding Kallus of Zeb.

Not that Zeb intended to let Kallus forget anyway.

Kallus latched onto the corresponding spot on Zeb’s shoulder, doing his best to give Zeb a bruise as well, through the fur and thick skin.

Zeb let out a shaky groan as he felt Kallus’s teeth against his skin.

“Zeb, I love you, but I want you to listen to me,” Kallus mumbled against his shoulder.

“Anything,” Zeb said, aware that a blanket agreement was a dangerous thing.

“You want to stay, don’t you?” Kallus whispered. “You want to reconcile with your brother.”

Zeb wasn’t going to lie. “I do. But I told you last night–”

“You did,” Kallus said. “And I told you I’d do whatever was necessary. I want you to have your family.”

“I don’t want anyone here to hurt you again. I won’t let them. I’ll take you off-planet before that happens.”

Kallus brushed his thumbs across Zeb’s fur. “Zeb, if you could have anything, would you want us both to stay here and get along with your brother?”

Zeb was quiet for a moment. That was, indeed, the dream, but was it possible? “I want that,” he admitted.

“Then we’re staying. We’re going back to Velencia as soon as I shower. I will do my karking best to make him like me. I will fight anyone he asks and I will bow and scrape and apologize as many times as are necessary.”

Zeb kissed Kallus again, as much to stop him as to stave off Zeb’s own rush of emotion. “I told you before you’re an idiot, but kriff if you aren’t _my_ idiot.”

Kallus smiled, the movement rubbing against Zeb’s lips. “I am, until you come to your senses or until your brother decides he _doesn’t_ want me around.”

“He decides that, we’re both getting out of here.”

Kallus held Zeb’s face one more time. “I’ll wait for you, if you want me to. But your brother might not. You should focus on him, not on me.”

Zeb groaned again, unhappily. He could tell Kallus yet again that Zeb wanted to mate him, that he was the most important thing in Zeb’s life, but Kallus would still push him toward Kafzyr, just as he had always pushed Zeb towards Hera and the _Ghost_ crew.

Morning was not the time for arguments. Zeb laid a small kiss on Kallus’s forehead, on his nose, and finally on his lips; that last kiss bloomed into something deeper, more forceful, more passionate. Zeb pressed Kallus back into the pillow, feeling that small human tongue swirl around his own, exploring Zeb’s mouth.

Once more, Zeb found himself wondering why he’d waited so long to kiss Kallus. And how long he’d have to pretend _not_ to be kissing Kallus.

The things he did for family.

* * *

The late afternoon sun beat down through the olimilau trees, bright streaks of light cutting through the forest. 

One such beam hit Velencia head on and the sound of kits playing drifted down from the upper platforms. Zeb could almost believe that he was riding up to Kamarai, the village his family had lived in when he was a kit himself.

One of the guards on-duty at the base of the stairwell stepped forward, a young man Zeb didn’t know, and bowed. “ _Arkesana_ Kafzyr asked us to bring you to his house.”

 _About time_ , Zeb thought. Three visits before he finally got invited to his own kriffing brother’s house. Of course, that assumed they were still brothers in any way beyond sharing blood.

It was like walking through a museum village, Zeb thought. Velencia looked exactly like how they’d been taught the ancients lived.

Heck, Kafzyr _might_ have relocated everyone to a museum rather than build things from scratch. It would have been easier that way.

Kafzyr’s house was on the main level, at a location conveniently near the busiest areas of town. As _Arkesana_ , he’d want to be available to everyone at all hours.

Kits ran past them, tossing a small leather ball to each other across the platform, yelling in Lasana as they did so. Kafzyr stood in the doorway, watching them play until he noticed Zeb and Kallus approach.

“ _Mal, Avi!_ ” Kafzyr called, motioning at one of the kits.

A purple kit, a little smaller than the others, turned and groaned. “ _Adan…_ ” he whined.

Kafzyr gave the kit a look and repeated his ‘come here’ motion.

Zeb raised his brows curiously. _Arkesanas_ weren’t supposed to have families, at least not before the attack.

Switching back to Basic once Avi was headed their way, he addressed Zeb. “Things have changed, Garazeb.” The kit, who couldn’t be more than ten, sulked while he stared at the strangers.

“This is my son, Avirinkar. Avi is his cradle name,” Kafzyr said, putting a hand on the kit’s shoulder.

Zeb nodded. Cradle names were for friends and family until you became of age and then only used between mates. He’d reverted back to his for use among the rest of the galaxy, even the Spectres, because they all butchered the pronunciation of _Garazeb_. Well, all of them except for Kallus and he’d put some practice into it on Lira San.

“Avi, this is your _djadan_ Garazeb and his _friend_ Kal.”

Avi frowned. “Why are we speaking Basic?” the kit asked, thickly accented and haltingly even for a ten-year-old. Basic must not be taught until kits were older, Zeb noted.

“Because your _djadan_ and his friend have been away for a very long time,” Kafzyr explained. 

“I haven’t forgotten Lasana,” Zeb said, letting the lilting language of his youth flow easily off his tongue. “But Kal only speaks Lira Sana. You could mostly understand him, but it’s tricky.”

Kafzyr huffed and led the group inside.

Immediately, Zeb’s nose was hit with the most delicious smells. Roasted djele, if he wasn’t mistaken, and some sort of baked shanvyr fruit dish. “ _Karabast_ ,” he sighed.

Kafzyr’s arm shot out and tagged Zeb in the shoulder. “Language!” he said, sounding _exactly_ like the older brother he used to be.

Zeb couldn’t help but laugh.

The sound drew out another lasat from the kitchen. She was smaller, like Avi, but bore signs of the Imperial attack: a large burn across her face and neck, one ear gone, and a limp. Kafzyr’s face lit up when he saw her, though, and Zeb didn’t need any introduction on who this woman was to his brother.

“And my mate, Vashtyr.”

Vashtyr came forward to greet Zeb, bowing slightly. “It’s a relief to finally get to meet you,” she said. “I’m grateful Avi has more family than we thought.”

Zeb returned the bow, making sure to catch Vashtyr’s eyes. “I’m grateful, too. I never thought _I_ would get to be _djadan_ again.”

Kallus introduced himself, echoing the bows, but Zeb found himself looking around the home.

It was almost a caricature of what a lasat house should be. Natural fibers and building materials, comfortable but cozy, curved around a huge tree trunk, smelling of food and–

“Is that–?” Zeb asked, indicating a broom of dark, fragrant twigs held together by embroidered ribbon and hung over the doorway.

“From _Adan_ and _Aman_ ’s,” Kafzyr confirmed. “There wasn’t much left that I could find, but the broom survived.”

Smiling, Zeb turned back to his brother. “If I hadn’t seen my barracks leveled during the attack, that would tempt me to go back and search through the rubble.”

“Don’t bother.” Kafzyr waved a hand, taking in the village around them. “We picked Ithdasira pretty clean already. Anything that remained from your barracks ended up with our new Honor Guard.”

Zeb felt a flash of disappointment, but he wasn’t surprised. “Probably where everything ought to have gone,” he said.

Next to him, Kallus was quiet, standing as small as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. Unfortunately, just by being human, he drew Avi’s attention.

The kit only came up to Kallus’s chin, but he held himself like a full-grown adult already. “You’re the Imperial,” he said matter-of-factly.

Kallus looked to Zeb for guidance. Zeb nodded, hoping Kallus was getting the message that he should defend himself.

He did. “Not anymore,” he said. “I learned that what I was doing was wrong.”

Avi frowned, his expressive face showing disbelief. “ _Adan_ says humans don’t change.”

“All beings are capable of change,” Zeb told his nephew. “Humans included.”

“We’ll see about _this_ human,” Kafzyr said, putting a hand on Avi’s shoulder and pulling him back. He turned to Vashtyr. “ _Ni alitha_ , what can we do to help with dinner?”

That seemed to be some sort of signal, because Avi groaned.

Vashtyr smiled. “Avi, you set the table. And Garazeb, would you care to help me carve the djele?”

Being asked to help was being welcomed into the family and Zeb looked forward to getting to know the sister-in-law and nephew he hadn’t known he had, but it also left Kallus alone with Kafzyr.

Kallus gave Zeb a tight nod. Trusting his lover – his desired mate – he followed Vashtyr to the kitchen. It was a roomy space, filled with baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables and salted meats hanging from the ceiling. A wood-burning stove was lit, clearly the source of the shanvyr smell.

Vashtyr pointed to a counter, where a roast djele haunch sat on a large platter. A carving knife – obviously handmade – lay nearby. “I know it’s been a while, but I assume you remember how to?” she asked, a touch of humor in her voice.

Zeb smiled. “I think I can handle a hunk of meat.” He turned the plate, looking at the haunch, enjoying the familiar smell. “You’re right, though, it’s been a bit since I’ve had djele.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re home again,” she said kindly. “Zyr is too, even if he hasn’t shown it.”

Zeb huffed. He’d like it if Kafzyr showed it more. “It was a surprise,” he said. “I had no clue anyone was still here. I’d’ve come back sooner.”

“Of course,” she said. “But we did our best to stay quiet. Even the Imperials only knew us as phantoms until Zyr led the final assault.”

Zeb smiled softly. “You were phantoms, I was a Spectre on a _Ghost_. Not all that different.”

“I heard,” she said. “I was there yesterday.”

“That makes things easier,” Zeb joked, slicing the meat thinly and arranging it on the platter.

She stopped stirring the roast vegetables. “You wouldn’t remember me,” she said, “but I was an _Arkesana_ too. I knew Zyr before the attack. I know how much change you see in him because I watched him change. But your brother is still a good man. He’s had to make hard decisions to keep us all alive and that would affect anyone.”

“I understand,” Zeb said. He really did. He’d had to make hard decisions, from his time as Honor Guard Captain to his time as a Spectre. Kark, even sparing Kallus’s life on Bahryn had been a hard decision. He’d probably been changed by it all, too, if he thought about it.

But if he truly thought it through, he realized he wanted his brother back. He wouldn’t have hesitated to tell the old Kafzyr about his relationship with Kallus. He wouldn’t worry about leaving the two men alone together. He would feel completely comfortable in his own brother’s house.

Avi stomped in. “Table’s set,” he announced impatiently. 

Vashtyr gave him a sharp look and he straightened up, losing the sullen expression.

Zeb grinned at his nephew, trying to put the boy at ease. It had been a lot easier to entertain Jacen – he, at least, had been amused by the faces and growls Zeb made, as well as shrieking happily if Zeb tickled him.

Avi would probably not be quite as receptive to either approach.

Zeb followed Vashtyr and Avi into the small dining area. It was just barely big enough to fit the five of them, Avi stuck on a cramped chair at the far end of the table.

Catching Kallus’s eye, he got a slight nod; good. His time with Kafzyr had gone well. One less thing for Zeb to worry about.

Kafzyr stood while the others sat, Kallus and Zeb on a bench against the wall. Zeb prepared himself to hear the traditional short prayer to the Ashla before they ate, but Kafzyr sat without saying anything.

“Go ahead, eat,” Kafzyr prompted.

Zeb gave his brother a strange look. He hadn’t been observant after the attack, hadn’t had faith in the Ashla until it led him to Lira San, but an _Arkesana_ …

“We put our faith in each other,” Kafzyr said, as if reading Zeb’s mind. “Not in outdated concepts that served us no good.”

Zeb couldn’t help but compare Kafzyr to Gron, the warrior who believed in nothing _but_ the Ashla after the attack. Had everyone rejected the things they’d once held dear since then?

“In the Empire, they taught us to only believe in people, not to trust in the ideas of the Force,” Kallus said quietly. “Of course, some of us worked with Inquisitors and Darth Vader and knew better, but the average Imperial citizen had no place in their lives for the Force.”

Kafzyr’s face shut down and Zeb froze, afraid Kallus had grossly misstepped.

Vashtyr put a hand on her mate’s arm. “The general feeling on Lasan is that the Ashla still fills the universe, but that it allowed the attack to happen. Some of us believe there was a reason, but others don’t see one. It’s a… point of contention among the population.”

And between Kafzyr and Vashtyr, it seemed.

Somewhat surprisingly, Kafzyr didn’t argue with his mate. He simply smiled at her, ruffled the messy fur on his son’s head, and went back to eating peacefully.

Zeb watched Kafzyr interact with his family and finally, _finally_ , he began to see his brother again. Zyr, who always had a kind word for everyone. Who smiled and joked and watched out for Zeb and Jen. Who obviously loved his family and was loved by them.

Tucking into his meal, Zeb had faith that _this_ Kafzyr, away from the public eye, would hold to the bonds of hospitality and bring them to no harm. He and Kallus had fed the fire and they’d eaten at Kafzyr’s table; unless they broke the pact on their end, they were safe in Velencia.

And, by extension, on all Lasan.

For the first time this whole excursion, Zeb felt like he might actually be returning home again.

After dinner, Avi was sent back out to play until dark while the adults picked up the dishes and leftover food. Vashtyr wrapped up some of the food in broad olimilau leaves and gave it to Zeb and Kallus. “So you don’t have to cook right away,” she said.

The table cleared, they sat back down again. Zeb’s arm brushed Kallus’s and he let the warm touch linger a bit too long before scooting further down the bench. Hoping neither Kafzyr nor Vashtyr saw what had happened, he cleared his throat. “You haven’t told me the story of this village, Kafzyr. Or how you survived.”

Kafzyr looked decidedly uncomfortable. “We don’t talk about it much, you understand? What happened, happened and while we never forget or forgive, we try to look to the future.”

 _Never forget or forgive_. That had certainly seemed the case the night before, but Zeb hoped Kafzyr was a little more flexible than the others.

Kafzyr stared at a spot over Kallus’s head. “Like so many others, I had run to the palace for protection. I thought it would be the last stand and even though I had no training, I was prepared to fight. But I felt the pull of the Ashla, calling me out of the palace.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in the Ashla anymore,” Zeb commented, a little more sarcastically than was polite.

Kafzyr shrugged. “I _believe_ in it, but I no longer put my faith in it. Being called out of the palace was one of the reasons why. In the palace, I saw our sister. I saw the royal family, even the kits. I saw Honor Guard and _Arkesana_ and merchants and all sorts of people, terrified and traumatized. We’d all seen what those Imperials and their weapons did to our loved ones. To child and elderly, to warrior and poet indiscriminately.”

Kallus looked down at the table, obviously uncomfortable – undoubtedly just what Kafzyr intended – and Zeb had to resist the urge to reassure him.

“But the palace was strong. It was built to withstand invasion from land or air. When I felt the pull of the Ashla, I thought it was calling _me_ to my death, to do something to help the others.” Kafzyr shut his eyes. “I had just cleared the palace grounds when the explosion happened.”

Zeb felt his stomach churn as the image of the palace exploding filled his mind. He stood, walking quickly to the next room, almost before he realized he’d moved. He stood, one hand on the mantle, the other covering his eyes, and _watched_ the explosion happening. It was like he was there again, feeling the rubble rain down on top of him, the heat from the resulting flames, the sudden ringing silence as his hearing failed him.

“Zeb?”

Gripping the mantle tightly to support himself, Zeb looked over to see that Kallus had followed him.

Zeb straightened, tried to compose himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kallus eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not all right. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zeb lied. “Just ate too much too quickly. Needed to stand.”

“If that was the case, you’d have gone to the refresher.” Kallus approached him slowly, one hand out. “What’s really wrong?”

Zeb sighed. Kallus knew him too well. No, Kallus knew what it was like to have lived through devastating horrors – Onderon, Scarif, Yavin, even Lasan in a way – and he knew what it was to wake in the night, sweating and terrified.

“It’s hearing Kafzyr’s story,” he said. “I relived it all of a sudden. I don’t know why, I was fine when we landed. I was fine telling my own story.”

“It’s easier to distance yourself when it’s just you,” Kallus said. “But when it’s shared, when it’s someone you love…”

 _It’s harder to deny what happened_ , Zeb finished mentally. “Yeah. You’re right.” He laid his hand atop Kallus’s, unsure how they’d explain it if Kafzyr or Vashtyr saw them. “I spent so many years trying to forget everything that ever happened. I didn’t want to remember anything: being Honor Guard Captain, being unable to save anyone at all, watching it all go up in flames.”

Kallus nodded, thin human fingers petting the short fur of Zeb’s palm, helping anchor him in the present. “Until Chava made you remember.”

“Until Chava made me remember,” Zeb agreed. “And now, Kafzyr is making me relive it.”

“We can leave,” Kallus offered. “We can ask to change the subject.”

Zeb shook his head. “No. I need to hear this. I need to know what happened.”

Behind Kallus, Kafzyr walked up, showing caution. “You all right, _sadan’aki?_ ”

“Are any of us?” Zeb asked, dropping Kallus’s hand before Kafzyr could see. “But I’m better. Please, continue your story.”

Kafzyr motioned for them to sit on the long couch and he took Zeb’s spot by the fireplace. Vashtyr found a seat on a smaller sofa.

Kafzyr dove right back into his tale, though his eyes were far away. “I hid until the Imperials left. How I avoided detection, I’m not sure, but I ventured out only after I heard their ships leave and it had grown dark.

“Ithdasira was deserted. There were bodies surrounding the palace, so I ran deeper into the city. The first person I saw was Tarkorra, barely out of her cradle years. Her cries brought other survivors to us. There were about thirty of us that first night and they looked to me for leadership. Over the next few days, others showed up, including a group led by Chaftin. We organized ourselves: gathering supplies, treating the wounded, and planning our next move.”

“Into the forests?” Zeb asked, his voice still a bit shaky.

Kafzyr nodded. “Into the forests. It took time and a few tries, but eventually we built Velencia. We picked this location because it had never been settled and any returning Imperials wouldn’t know to look here.” 

Zeb listened quietly while his brother outlined the rest of Velencia’s history, how the remnant decided to split up so that they would all be harder to find, how they all learned the ancient trades – some by trial and error, some by tradition passed down.

It was nice, he realized, just to sit and listen to Kafzyr’s voice, to enjoy the presence of his brother without worrying. 

If only he could be completely open with Kafzyr about Kallus.

Soon, maybe.

Vashtyr was the one to broach the subject of Kallus. “So you really defected because of Garazeb?” she asked.

Kallus glanced at Zeb. “Not entirely, but he was the catalyst. If he hadn’t pushed me to find answers about Geonosis, I wouldn’t have pursued other lines of thought on my own. I would have probably never questioned the Empire’s stance on nonhumans or the use of force or even the circumstances of the Emperor’s rise.”

“And you were welcomed into the Rebellion?”

“There were many defectors,” Zeb said. “We took in nearly anyone who wanted to see the Empire fall. And Kal did.”

Vashtyr was silent for a moment, eyes moving between Zeb and Kallus. “What is your full name, Kal? I know humans have family names, just as we do.”

“Yes,” Kallus said, “though we generally get our from our fathers, unlike you. My full name is Alexsandr Kallus. Until we arrived here, no one but Zeb called me Kal. It’s always been Kallus.”

Kafzyr’s eyes narrowed slightly at the use of Zeb’s cradle name – and probably at Zeb giving Kallus one. Zeb held his gaze, hoping he wasn’t betraying anything.

“We’ve got a house available,” Kafzyr said, “but you’ll need to share. Is that okay?”

Kallus answered for them. “It should be fine. We have shared off and on for years in the Rebellion.”

“Good,” said Vashtyr. “Let us show you where you’ll stay, if you choose to join us.”

She and Kafzyr led the way through the village, up into the trees to a small house, smaller even than their house on Lira San, but similarly furnished, down to the single bed pit.

Zeb huffed a laugh. This time, they’d be sharing the bed pit, but pretending they weren’t.

Vashtyr showed Kallus the amenities – including the running groundwater Velencia had managed to install – and Kafzyr turned to Zeb.

“He truly is your friend, isn’t he?” Kafzyr asked. “You care about him, despite what he did.”

“I do,” Zeb said. “I wrestled with it for a bit, feeling like I was betraying Lasan, but he genuinely apologized and I saw how he’d worked to change. How he still _is_ working to change. He knows he can’t undo what he did, but he helped make sure it would never happen again.”

“And the others from Lasan, they accepted him?”

“Almost all did. Many of them he personally helped to find and relocate to Lira San. There were one or two holdouts, but the community as a whole welcomed him. They decided to see him as the Rebel agent and spy Fulcrum, not as ISB-021.”

“Still,” Kafzyr said. “That was only for six years, you said.”

“Six years of hard work,” Zeb countered. “Six years of risking his life to save others.”

Kafzyr sighed. “I want to tell you he’s bad news still,” he said. “That’s the big brother in me, I suppose. But you made your own choice and I’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” Zeb said, eyes following Kallus through the house. He had an urge to tell Kafzyr everything, about wanting Kallus to be his mate as well as his friend, but he held his tongue. Getting Kafzyr to accept him as a friend was good enough for now.

Once Kafzyr and Vashtyr were gone, Kallus turned to Zeb. “Do you think they know?”

“I think they suspect,” Zeb said honestly. “But Kafzyr didn’t say anything about that.”

Kallus rubbed his chest, where he still had a bandaged wound. “I was half afraid he’d hit me here if I said something wrong. But he was much kinder and friendlier tonight.”

Stepping forward to envelop Kallus in a hug, Zeb said, “He was much more like the brother I remember. I think he forgot how to deal with family.”

“And you didn’t?”

Zeb grinned. “No. I had Sabine and Ezra to remind me what siblings were like, although on the _Ghost_ , I was the big brother, not the youngest.”

Kallus pulled Zeb down for a brief kiss. “And you’re truly all right after listening to Kafzyr’s story?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be, I think,” Zeb said, suppressing a shudder. “I knew before we came here that I’d see things that reminded me of my failure.”

“No,” Kallus said firmly. “You didn’t fail. We– the Empire wouldn’t have stopped until the royal family was dead one way or another. You could never have saved them.”

“I _know_ that,” Zeb said. “But believing it is a whole other thing.”

Cupping Zeb’s face in his hands, Kallus looked him in the eyes. “You won’t let me dwell on my choices, even though I was actively causing harm. I won’t let you think you failed a single lasat that day. You did everything you could and you can’t ask more of yourself.”

Zeb blinked slowly, taking in Kallus’s words. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try not to look at it that way.”

“Good.” Kallus ran his hands down Zeb’s arms and picked up his hands. “Are we safe here now?”

“We are,” Zeb said. “We’ve eaten at Kafzyr’s table. He’s in charge of protecting us now unless you or I break the rules of hospitality.”

“You’ll let me know if I get close to doing that?” Kallus asked.

“Kal, you’re too kriffin’ proper to really mess up,” Zeb laughed. “It’ll be me that missteps, I’m sure.”

“Would it be a misstep to share the bed?” Kallus asked.

“Nah,” Zeb said, squeezing Kallus’s hands. “In fact, I think it could be the best thing to happen today.”

“‘Could be’?”

“Well, that roast was pretty karkin’ good,” Zeb said, grinning.

Kallus laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

Zeb led the way to the bed pit. “And you’re a fancypants who likes usin’ big words.”

“What can I say?” Kallus said. “You inspire me.”

“I’d like to see what I can inspire, if you’re up to it,” Zeb said, trying to put enough playfulness in his voice that Kallus knew he could back out if he wanted.

Stripping himself of his shoes and other clothes, Kallus crawled onto the mattress. “Let’s find out,” he said.

Zeb shook his head. “Someday, you’re _actually_ going to be the death of me, Kal.”

“I highly doubt that,” Kallus said. “You’ve got all my defenses down, Zeb. If anyone dies, it’ll be me.”

Zeb wanted to argue the point, but Kallus removed the last of his undergarments and he found himself thoroughly distracted.

If he was going to get into trouble with his brother, then Kallus was a pretty good reason, Zeb mused. Just needed to formalize that mate thing.

 _Soon. Real soon_.


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana translations:  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader  
> Djadan - uncle  
> Djedin/djedin’ka – nephew/dear nephew  
> Adan – father

A week passed before Kallus realized it. His days blended together: nights and mornings spent in Zeb’s arms and Zeb’s bed, daily dirty looks from other lasat while Zeb spent time with Kafzyr and Chaftin trying to convince them to let the New Republic help, and evening Lasana lessons from Vashtyr. 

The language was the trickiest part of it all; he kept inadvertently slipping back into Lira Sana. When he would apologize for his lapses, Vashtyr always laughed and pointed out that at least he sat still, unlike the young kits she taught during the day.

Her kindness made things a little easier, but Kallus still felt very much the outsider. Zeb stayed by his side whenever possible, but Kallus wasn’t welcome in his negotiations with Kafzyr.

“I hate this,” Zeb said one night. “It should be you. You’re the smart one. You’re the one who could talk them into accepting help, but they won’t listen to you.”

Kallus turned around sharply, stopping Zeb where they stood on the way to the bedroom. “Don’t you dare say that.” He pressed the tip of a finger into Zeb’s chest and stared him down. “You are smarter than I am. You see things clearer than I do. You always have. You are more than adequate for this job. Besides, stubbornness seems to be a family trait. Kafzyr’ll come around. You just have to outlast him.”

“I can do that,” Zeb said, running his thumb down Kallus’s jaw to his chin, where Kallus had begun to grow out his beard. “I knew how to get my way with him as a kit, I can get my way now.”

“See?” Kallus smiled, flattening his hand against Zeb’s chest. “You can do this.”

He turned to go to the bedroom, but Zeb caught his hand. “You’re wrong, though.”

“No, I’m not,” Kallus said reflexively. “About what?”

“You’re the clever one.” Zeb seemed a little sad.

Kallus squeezed his hand. “No, I’m not. If I were smarter and more clever, I would have seen the Empire for what it was sooner. I would have refused my orders here. It wouldn’t have taken being stranded with you for me to come around.” He gave Zeb a soft grin. “I would have caught you Spectres instead of always being caught off-guard by your unorthodox tactics.”

“Ah, well, you want unorthodox, that was Ezra’s specialty, not mine.” Zeb’s sadness lifted, though. “You really think I’m smarter than you are?”

“I do.”

“You’re crazy,” Zeb said, a smile returning to his face. “But I know better than to argue with you. You’re as bad as a lasat about giving up.”

“I learned from the best,” Kallus said, punctuating his reply with a kiss. “Which is why I know you’re going to convince your brother that you’re right about the New Republic.”

“And about you,” Zeb added. “That’s the most important thing.”

Kallus nodded. Kafzyr tolerated Kallus’s presence in the village – and the village mostly followed his direction, if unhappily – but he certainly hadn’t welcomed Kallus into the family. It wasn’t obvious to Kallus what would _get_ Kafzyr to accept him as Zeb’s mate, but he knew they’d have to figure it out. They wouldn’t be able to stay a secret forever.

The only one who knew the truth was Tarkorra, who saw Kallus the next day. She’d made good use of his medical scanner from the medkit on the _Glimmer_ and checked his chest regularly.

“That bacta did wonders,” she said, looking at the wound on his chest, which was nothing more than a smooth pink scar amidst a sea of freckles. “You’re good to go on the slug wound, but I have to warn you that once you’ve had a lung collapse, it can happen again at any time. Watch it if you exert yourself.”

 _If you fight_ , Kallus translated. Kafzyr hadn’t mentioned having Kallus fight with bo-rifle again, but he might once he learned Kallus was essentially healed. “I can train on bo-rifle again? If I take it easy,” he asked in halting Lasana.

Tarkorra hummed and replied in Basic, showing Kallus just how terrible his Lasana really was. “I’d rather you not, but you’re physically able to. I won’t stop you.”

Kallus took the cue and switched back to Basic, taking the chance to pull his shirt back on – without bandages on his chest for the first time in a week. He watched Tarkorra work, making notes on actual paper, not flimsi. “You were young when the attack happened,” he said. “Who trained you to be a medic?”

“A healer who survived, Kerra. He helped raise me and taught me everything he knew. By the time I was of age, I’d been his assistant for years.”

“And where is he?” Kallus asked carefully, aware it might be a touchy subject.

“The last time we had a group split off to form a new village, he went with them,” she said. “Said I knew enough to be on my own now.”

Kallus rubbed his chest through his shirt. “He was right, from what I can tell. It’s amazing what you do without bacta or any real technology.”

“A lot of it’s guesswork,” she admitted. “But some things I have seen before. We’ve had hunters get hit accidentally before, so I’d seen a slugthrower wound by the time you got here.”

It still impressed Kallus what the whole community had managed when they’d been knocked back to pre-space travel living conditions. “I’m personally glad for that.”

“I imagine so is Garazeb,” she said. “You still haven’t told _Arkesana_ Kafzyr, have you?”

Kallus pressed his lips together in a thin line. “No,” he admitted. “And I appreciate you keeping our secret.”

“I’ll keep it,” she said, “but the longer you hide it, the worse it’s going to be.”

It was true, but Kallus wasn’t going to admit it. “Zeb’s getting there,” he promised. “In the meantime, is there anything I should be doing to ingratiate myself with everyone here?”

Tarkorra thought for a bit. “Perhaps if you were to study our history and not just our language? Finding a job here in the village would help, too. Hunter, maybe, if Kafzyr trusts you with a slugthrower. I don’t know for sure.”

Kallus nodded. A job. He could find a job to do. “Thank you, Tarkorra,” he said. “I’ll go work on that.”

“Don’t strain yourself!” she called as he left her small clinic. “And don’t blame me for what happens when you do!”

Laughing shortly, Kallus headed off to find Zeb. He could think of a few ways to strain himself – but the one that seemed most appealing was getting his hands on a weapon again. He didn’t feel like himself unarmed.

He might always want a weapon, he realized. He might have retired, but he hadn’t escaped the war entirely.

And neither had Zeb.

* * *

Avi scrambled over the rubble in front of Zeb, looking back and beaming every now and again. His laughter was infectious and Zeb found himself smiling in a place he only ever thought would bring pain.

Ithdasira was deserted except for Zeb, Avi, and a couple Honor Guard on duty watching for an Imperial return.

Because of the Imperial presence, Avi had never been to Ithdasira before. Bereft of memories of the place before the attack, Avi only saw a playground of rocks. 

It was a surprise when Kafzyr allowed Zeb to take Avi to the city, but Zeb treasured the chance to get to know his nephew. To Zeb’s delight, once he saw his father approve, Avi turned into a chatterbox.

In rushed Lasana, Avi told his _djadan_ about the village school, about his friends, about his hopes to someday be Honor Guard.

“Well, you know, _djedin,_ ” Zeb said. “It’s not easy to become Honor Guard. You have to work hard.”

“I can work hard!” Avi proclaimed.

“I’m sure you can. Here, follow me,” Zeb said, setting off through the city. The streets were mostly clear; the Imperials who’d occupied the planet had done a lot of work making the city safe for them to traverse in walkers and speeder bikes. He ran slowly enough Avi could keep up with him, taking a winding path toward the palace.

He stopped before they got to the palace itself, however, looking at a set of half-destroyed buildings lining an inner courtyard.

Avi poked his head in. “What was this?”

“This was where I used to live,” Zeb said. “The Honor Guard barracks and training grounds.”

Avi wandered into the courtyard, looking around. Zeb hung by the edge, finding himself drawn to his old quarters. As befit the captain, his room had been slightly larger, but still not much bigger than his cabin on the _Ghost_.

The barracks were in better shape than Kafzyr’s warning had made him think. There was rubble everywhere – no room was untouched – but a few still stood, his quarters included. As Avi pretended to fight with an invisible bo-rifle, Zeb stood in the door of his room. 

Dust and mold covered everything, sun shone through holes in the ceiling, and rodents had chewed at the blankets and bedding, but otherwise it looked as he’d left it. His chest sat at the end of the cot, unopened. 

Zeb knelt in front of the chest and pulled out the contents. 

Apparently the new Honor Guard hadn’t wanted his clothes, because first he found a tunic and pants; the training uniform. His were black, accented with a silver sash and belt. Second was the dress uniform, ceremonial clothing adorned with medals and elegant green and gold threads woven throughout the white. A few extra sets of training clothing were folded at the bottom, along with parts to maintain and care for a bo-rifle.

It wasn’t much, but that trunk held all the belongings Zeb had owned. He never thought he’d see any of that again. When the attack happened, he’d been wearing a patrol outfit, decorated only with the medallion that marked him High Honor Guard. That medal, his bo-rifle, and the bag of dust and ash he’d scooped up before leaving were all he’d been able to take with him.

Taking a moment to think, Zeb packed the trunk back up. He didn’t really need anything in there – when would he need Guard Captain uniforms again? – but he still felt the urge to bring it all back to Velencia. 

Velencia wasn’t _home_ , not yet, but it had the potential to be. Lira San had held that potential and he’d been unable to find himself there; would he face the same problem on Lasan?

Zeb sat on the cot, the thin mattress barely enough to support him. It was familiar and yet a stranger to him all at the same time. 

“ _Djadan?_ ” called Avi, standing in the courtyard, searching for him.

“In here!” Zeb replied.

Avi ran over, the spring of youth in his step. “Whoa,” he said, looking in the room. “Is this where you _lived?_ ”

“It is.” Zeb patted the cot beside him and Avi sat down too.

“It’s so little!” Avi looked up at Zeb. “It’s as small as my room.”

Zeb smiled and ruffled Avi’s fuzzy head. “Honor Guard weren’t supposed to have a lot of things,” he said. “We left all our belongings and our family so that we could have a new family. Each other. It’s a lot like what your _adan_ did when he left to be an _Arkesana_.”

“Is that why you don’t have any kits?”

“Why? Do you want cousins?” Zeb asked, smile turning sad. “That’s one reason, I suppose. I never really ran into other lasat before–”

“Before what?” Avi watched Zeb with keen interest.

“Before I found the way to Lira San,” he said. “And then all the lasat I met, I was taking there while I stayed with the Rebellion to fight.”

“With Kal?”

Zeb eyed his nephew. He was a pretty astute kit; had he figured it out before his father? “Yeah, with Kal. Sometimes. We worked on different things, so we didn’t see each other much.”

Avi frowned suspiciously. “If you didn’t see each other much, why’d you take him to Lira San?”

Zeb thought quickly for something appropriate to say. “Because I was the one who got him to join the Rebellion. I took his home away from him, so I thought I should give him a new one.”

Kicking his legs and stirring up the dust on the stone floor, Avi said, “ _Adan_ thinks you love Kal.” He looked up. “Do you?”

Zeb froze. What had tipped Kafzyr off? Why hadn’t his brother said anything? Had he sent Avi with him as a way to root out information from an unsuspecting Zeb? “Kal is my best friend,” Zeb said slowly. “You love _your_ best friends, right?”

Avi made a face. “But he’s a _human_. He’s skinny and pink and wears _shoes_ ,” he complained.

Relaxing a little, Zeb laughed. “Yes, he is. Humans are more clever than you think, though. They can learn to live most anywhere and do most anything, even things you’d think they shouldn’t. When we met, Kal was my equal on bo-rifle. He actually won our first fight and would have killed me if it weren’t for one of the Jedi in my crew.”

“ _Jedi?_ ” Avi looked interested again. “Like Jaro Tapal?”

“Yeah, like Jaro.” Zeb smiled, glad kits were still being told about him. “One of the Jedi I knew remembered seeing Master Tapal in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant when he was your age.”

“Wow.” Avi glanced up eagerly. “Can I meet the Jedi?”

 _Ah_. Zeb’s stomach dropped. “No, _djedin’ka_. He died fighting and I don’t know where his Padawan is. I wish I did.”

Avi frowned. “Okay,” he said, resigned. “That woulda been neat.”

“Yeah, it woulda,” Zeb agreed. “So you were told stories about Master Tapal?”

“Uh-huh,” Avi said, ears twitching. “I heard stories about you, too.”

“Me?”

“How you were the youngest Guard Captain and best on the bo-rifle and good at everything the Guard was s’posed to be good at.” Avi’s eyes narrowed. “Did Kal _really_ beat you in your first fight?”

“I wasn’t the _best_ ,” Zeb said, avoiding the question about Kallus. “I just worked hard. It wasn’t easy being Captain.”

“I keep asking Chaftin to let me train,” the kit said sullenly, “but she won’t let me.”

Zeb wouldn’t give a ten-year-old a functional bo-rifle, either. “Tell you what. We’ll look around here to see if we can find some training bo-rifles and if we do, I’ll teach you some of what you need to know.”

“Yes!” cried Avi, jumping off the bed and running from room to room.

Zeb followed at a more leisurely pace, though his mind was anything but at ease. He followed Avi, but found his memory foggy about the men and women who used to live there with him. He’d done his best for years to forget his life on Lasan, and he’d been largely successful. He stood in one door, trying to remember the name of the Guard who lived there.

It didn’t come to him. He knew he’d known everyone by name once upon a time. He knew the sorts of activities that the courtyard would be filled with on a day-to-day basis.

But he couldn’t _remember_ it. It was all intellectual knowledge, not memory.

He’d half-expected to see ghosts of the Guards who’d died, if only in his mind, but all he could draw up were uniforms, not faces.

Ashamed, Zeb turned away and walked to the room that had been their armory. Probably the Imperials had picked it clean, but maybe they left behind training weapons.

He was right. There were training staves, carved wood polished and painted to look like extended bo-rifles. Zeb grabbed two and hesitated before grabbing the rest. Chaftin could always use training weapons, certainly.

Glancing around the room one more time, Zeb thought it was empty until he noticed the pile of rubble in the corner of the room. Something metal glinted in the sunlight underneath the duracrete that had once been a ceiling. Setting the staves aside, Zeb started digging through the rubble. 

The metal he’d spotted was a chest. It looked surprisingly unmolested – and no wonder. Its latch was made for hands with claws, not blunt human fingers.

Inside were bo-rifles. Five of them, of varying models.

“Avi!” he called.

The kit came running up behind him. “I haven’t found anything, _dja_ – Wow.”

“Go get the trunk from my room,” Zeb instructed. 

Avi nodded and ran off, returning a few moments later lugging Zeb’s trunk. 

Zeb carefully transferred the bo-rifles into his trunk, tucking one underneath the clothes, and closed the lid again. “We’ll take these back to Chaftin,” he said.

“And you’ll teach me?” The kit was practically vibrating with excitement, his ears on full alert.

“I’ll teach you if your _adan_ and _aman_ say I can.” _I promised I’d work with Kal first, though. Wonder what Kal would think about training with a raw kit_?

Guess he’d just have to wait and find out. First, though, they needed to leave this place of no memories before it got to him. “Come on,” Zeb said. “Let’s go back.”

He balanced the chest and practice bo-rifles carefully in front of him as they rode back to Velencia, Avi chattering happily about the trip and the chance to train.

The new Guard barracks and training grounds were located just a few hundred meters from Velencia, in another natural clearing. Chaftin was there, overseeing sparring matches.

She greeted them warmly. “Garazeb! Avirinkar! Are you here to observe?”

“We bring gifts,” Zeb said, handing the practice staves to her before sliding off his slontele without dropping the trunk. “The barracks weren’t all picked dry.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Chaftin said. “The Imperials stripped everything they could, our scouts said.”

“Well, apparently they didn’t see the need for training staves.” Zeb set the trunk down. “And there was one chest they couldn’t get into.”

He opened it, revealing four bo-rifles atop his uniforms. Avi stared at them hungrily.

Chaftin lifted one, carefully checking it for damage from neglect. “The Empire would have loved to get their hands on these,” she said. “It’s a wonder they didn’t blast the trunk open.”

“Woulda hurt the bo-rifles,” Zeb pointed out. “But I figured the Honor Guard could use them. Maybe even take on new guards with the extra weapons.”

“You were right,” she said. “Four new guardsmen would be a big help. She eyed Zeb. “And you’re still sure you don’t want to come back? You know I’ll step aside for you.”

Zeb was aware of Avi watching him closely. Whatever he said would definitely be taken back to Kafzyr. “No,” he answered. “I did my time. I’ve fought my war.”

Chaftin nodded. “You’ve earned a retirement,” she agreed. “But your expertise would still be a help.”

“That I can do,” Zeb said. “And if you’ll let me use one of those training staves, I believe Kal can be a help as well. I’ll practice with him and get him back up to speed.”

For the first time in the conversation, Chaftin looked uncomfortable. “I know you vouched for him receiving a bo-rifle through the _Boosahn Keeraw_ , Garazeb, but he is still an outsider. A human. Would it really be wise to bring him onto our training field?”

Zeb huffed. “Thought Kafzyr wanted him to prove his skill with one,” he grumped. “All I’m askin’ is the chance to let him practice before Kafzyr pits him against one of you. We’d do the same for any other warrior coming out of retirement.”

Chaftin looked at the staves she’d leaned against the nearest wooden building. “Take one,” she said, then looked at Avi meaningfully. “But it’s on your head, not mine, when Kafzyr finds out.”

Zeb scruffed his nephew’s head fur. “Kafzyr already knows I want to train Kal again. And I don’t intend to ask Avi to lie for me.”

“I could!” Avi protested. “I won’t tell him about Kal if you train me!”

Laughing at Avi’s attempt at extortion, Zeb crouched so he was face-to-face with the kit. “That would be dishonorable, _djedin_. And you can’t be Honor Guard if you’re dishonorable. You can tell your father when he asks what we did today.”

Avi nodded. “Yes, _djadan_.”

“Good.” Zeb stood up and closed his trunk with a foot. “I’ll take Avi home now. Tomorrow I’ll bring Kal down.”

Chaftin nodded and gave him a bow. Zeb returned it before picking up his trunk.

Once they walked up to the main platform of Velencia, Avi took off for home. Zeb let him go; he was safe in the village and probably eager to tell his parents about his trip. Instead, Zeb climbed the stairs up to the little house where he and Kallus were staying.

“Kal!” he said when he opened the door. “Got something for you!”

Kallus looked up from the kitchen counter – he’d decided to try and learn Lasan cooking while they had little to do – and quirked an eyebrow. “What did you do, Zeb?” he asked warily.

“Hey,” Zeb protested. “Why d’you automatically assume I did something?”

Kallus pursed his lips. “Because you usually do.”

Zeb sighed. “Okay, so I did.” He set the trunk on the kitchen table and folded back the clothes to reveal the fifth bo-rifle.

He hadn’t been really sure what he wanted to do with it when he hid it away, beyond giving it to Kallus, but on the way back, he’d formulated a plan.

“Zeb, where did you get that?” Kallus asked, taking a step back. “I can’t imagine Kafzyr gave you one to give to me.”

“No,” Zeb admitted. “I found this in the old Honor Guard barracks. By default, all unclaimed bo-rifles belong to the Captain. New recruits would have to fight me and show honor before I’d give them theirs. So technically, this is my bo-rifle.”

Kallus stared at him, arms crossed. “And what do you intend to do with it?”

“I intend for you to fight me for it, in front of everyone, and earn it from me in the _Boosahn Keeraw_. You did it once, you can do it again.” Zeb shrugged. “And if it’s public, then no one can argue you didn’t earn it.”

“Zeb, I’m horribly out of practice,” Kallus pointed out. “It’s been more than five years since I last handled a bo-rifle.”

“So we train first. Training staves, until you’re ready.” Zeb tried to make it sound like the easiest thing in the galaxy, deliberately ignoring the fact that he hadn’t gotten his brother’s permission for any of it yet. “Gonna train Avi, too.”

Kallus’s gaze slowly softened until he sighed and uncrossed his arms. “You really want me to have a bo-rifle again?”

“I do,” Zeb said. “I want you to have one and to help me show the new Honor Guard some stuff. You always had moves I couldn’t anticipate.”

“That’s because I didn’t train with an Honor Guard,” Kallus pointed out. “I taught myself.”

“So what you know will help _this_ Honor Guard and help prevent another attack on them.”

“Zeb…”

“Kal.” Zeb didn’t look away. “If you honestly don’t want to do it, I won’t force you. But I think it would go a long way for getting the village to accept us both. To getting my brother to accept you so we can tell him.”

Kallus closed the lid on the trunk and walked up to Zeb, wrapping his arms around his waist. “That would be good,” he said. “But you know what would be better?”

“I can think of a few things,” Zeb said, cupping Kallus’s face in his. “And one o’ them is you finishing that pie you got started there.”

Kallus laughed and stood on his toes just enough that he could rub their cheeks together, the scenting move blending seamlessly into a kiss.

Zeb tangled his fingers in Kallus’s hair, which was getting longer by the day, and felt the scratch of his new beard growth against his lips.

He loved it all.

He loved it so much, in fact, that he didn’t hear the footsteps running up to their house. Didn’t remember that he’d left the door open. Didn’t notice a thing until–

“ _Djadan!_ ” cried Avi, sounding scandalized.

Kallus pulled away quickly, fear in his eyes.

Zeb’s shoulders slumped. “ _Karabast_.”


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana this chapter:  
> Djadan - uncle  
> Arkesana - religious leader  
> Ni ashkerra – my love

Zeb spun and lunged for Avi. The kit wasn’t trying to run away, but Zeb grabbed his arm anyway. “Avi–”

“What?” Avi said defiantly. “You were _kissing_ him. You told me he was your friend.”

“He is,” Zeb said. “He’s my best friend and your _adan_ is right. I love him. But you can’t–”

Cutting himself off, Zeb looked in Avi’s eyes. He’d just told the kit that he shouldn’t lie if he wanted to be Honor Guard; he would completely destroy his budding relationship with his nephew if he asked Avi to lie for them.

Zeb sighed. “Avi, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth earlier. Kal and I didn’t think we would be accepted if we were open about our relationship. That’s why we hid it.”

Avi looked past Zeb, eying Kallus. “Were you gonna tell _Adan_?”

“At some point,” Zeb said honestly. “I wanted to wait until more people liked Kal.”

“We can go tell him now,” Kallus said, oddly calm and quiet. “It’s not a secret anymore, Zeb. The second Avirinkar leaves, the news is out.”

Kallus was right. Avi was enough of a talker that the news _would_ spread quickly. Better to handle the damage themselves than let rumor reach Kafzyr first. “Okay,” Zeb said. “Let’s go to your house, Avi.”

Avi wrenched his arm out of Zeb’s grip, scowling. “Okay.”

Zeb supposed the petulant answer was the best he was going to get. He let Avi lead the way through the village. “What were you doing at our house?” he asked, curious.

“ _Aman_ said she would let you teach me bo-rifle if we were careful.” Avi didn’t sound all that convinced that he wanted lessons anymore.

“That’s good,” Zeb said, trying to be positive. He hung back, falling into step next to Kallus. “Let me handle this, Kal. He _is_ my brother.”

“Like you’ve handled everything so far?” Kallus said wryly. “If I’m going to be accepted here, I should be the one to tell him. I can’t let you fight all my battles for me. Remember, I’m a warrior, too.”

He was right, Zeb realized. Kafzyr would probably respect Kallus more if he was the one who spoke up.

Zeb wondered what Kafzyr would think of _him_. He didn’t know his brother well enough yet to guess.

Avi led them to his house, where Kafzyr sat in conversation with Tarkorra, who smiled when she saw them.

Kafzyr looked up and frowned. “What is it?” he asked.

Avi ran up to his father, breathlessly exclaiming, “I saw _Djadan_ Garazeb and Kal–!” The boy cut himself off and Zeb wondered if he realized it wasn’t his job to confess.

“You saw Garazeb and Kal what?” Kafzyr sharp gaze turned on Zeb.

Kallus moved in front of Avi. “ _Arkesana_ , may we speak in private?”

Kafzyr glanced at Tarkorra, who stood and moved to the door, not quite leaving.

Kallus took her spot, sitting directly in front of Kafzyr. “You’re a smart man, Kafzyr, so I think you may have already guessed, but your brother and I aren’t simply friends. We are much more than that to each other.”

Snorting a laugh, Kafzyr said, “That much was obvious from the first moment I saw you together. So were your attempts to hide it. I guess my son found you doing something you didn’t want public?” He smiled at Avi, who sat next to his father. “Hopefully nothing too _involved_.”

“No,” Kallus said. “Scenting and kissing only.”

Kafzyr raised his brows. “Kissing?”

“It _is_ the human way of doing things,” Kallus said, unperturbed. “We have found ways to combine both our species’ ways of showing affection.”

Avi made a face at the memory. Zeb remembered being that age, back when the world of adult romance – scenting and marking – seemed so undesirable. Avi would likely change his mind soon enough.

Amused, at least on the surface, Kafzyr patted Avi’s leg. “Why did it take Avi to get you to tell me?”

“Because we believed you wouldn’t accept us until you had accepted me into your community. _If_ you accepted me into your community.” Kallus held Kafzyr’s gaze.

The skin around Kafzyr’s eyes hardened and he shooed Avi off then, instructing the boy to go back out to play. “And you expect us to accept you because you’re with my brother.”

Kallus didn’t move. “I want you to know that this is not some infatuation or personal exploration for me. I love your brother, deeply. I fully intend to be Zeb’s mate, in all meanings of the word.”

“I’m supposed to approve of this?” Kafzyr shook his head. “I have no say over what Garazeb does, but this changes your standing here.”

Kallus nodded. “I assumed as much.”

“I thought maybe you would tire of Garazeb or of us and leave him behind someday. But if you’re his mate, then you’re asking to stay with us indefinitely.” Kafzyr glanced at Zeb disapprovingly. “And you have yet to prove your honor to us.”

“You want me to fight, still?” Kallus asked.

“Didn’t Tarkorra say you’re healed?”

Kallus touched his chest and nodded, glancing at the healer, who looked stricken.

Kafzyr sniffed. “If you won a bo-rifle honorably once, then you can do it again.”

Zeb stepped up behind Kallus. “He can fight me.”

Kafzyr gave Zeb an exasperated look. “If he fights you no one – me included – will believe you gave it your all. No, he must fight Chaftin.”

“Fair enough,” Kallus said. “May I have a day to refresh my skills? I will work with Zeb then.”

“I’ll even give you two,” Kafzyr said magnanimously. “Two days and then the third morning you fight Chaftin.”

Kallus nodded. “I will prepare myself, but if I win, I wish to carry a bo-rifle again.”

“What makes you think we’ll give you a bo-rifle?” Kafzyr asked, shock evident in his voice.

Kallus gestured to Zeb. “As I understand it, the way to obtain a bo-rifle is to battle the Honor Guard Captain. I ask only that I get the same consideration as a lasat would.”

“We’ll see,” Kafzyr said. “I won’t guarantee anything.”

Tarkorra’s ears twitched. “ _Arkesana_ –”

Kafzyr turned to Tarkorra. “You knew about them, didn’t you? You didn’t want to answer my questions after you treated Kal.”

Tarkorra looked ashamed, but only for a moment. “What I see is between me and my patients, _Arkesana_. You can’t ask me to break that bond.”

Zeb noticed Tarkorra clenching her fists, obviously uncomfortable. She wanted the attention off her.

He could do that.

Zeb placed his hands on Kallus’s shoulders. “Kafzyr, I want this man to be my mate. And I want it to happen sooner rather than later.”

“If he wins the fight–”

“No,” Zeb cut him off. “Before. I want it to be very clear that if you banish Kal, you banish me. I want Kal to be confident in my support.”

“Zeb,” Kallus said. “I know.”

“Kafzyr, you’re pushing me into this, but I should thank you for making me do it.” Zeb moved to sit next to Kallus and turned the human’s head toward him. “Kal, you’ve said you want to be my mate, but will you be my mate _now_? Before your trial?”

Kallus hesitated, eyes going wide, the gold almost disappearing as his pupils grew. He took a deep breath and answered. “Do you honestly need to ask? The answer is always yes.” Kallus averted his gaze. “But are you certain you’re all right with rushing this? I don’t want to take away any dreams you’ve had of what it should be. I can wait.”

Zeb laughed, oblivious to the people around them. “I never had those kinda dreams. I was gonna devote my life to the Honor Guard. Then it was harrassin’ the Empire. Then being a Rebel. And then you turned out to be Fulcrum and made me rethink everythin’.” He ran a finger along Kallus’s jawline, lifting his chin ever so gently. “So’s long as I got you, I don’t care if we become mates here, or on Canto Bight, or on the _Ghost_. But I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Kallus leaned in and kissed him gently.

Slowly, Zeb became aware of the continued presence of Kafzyr and Tarkorra. He straightened up and looked at his brother. “So yeah. I want to mate this man. And I s’pose that means you have to do it.”

“I could refuse,” Kafzyr said.

Zeb glared. “You won’t.”

“We don’t have clothes for humans,” Kafzyr argued.

“So alter some.” Zeb refused to be talked out of mating Kallus. “I’ll wear my old uniform unless Chaftin objects.”

Kafzyr didn’t react. “You assume the ceremony hasn’t changed.”

“Well, if it’s changed, tell me what I need to do now.” Zeb huffed in exasperation.

“I expect him to speak Lasana after this. We’ve indulged you both with Basic long enough,” Kafzyr said.

“It’s hardly indulging when most of the galaxy speaks Basic,” Zeb argued.

“But it’s not what we speak here,” Kafzyr said. “Here, we held onto our traditions so that the Empire couldn’t stamp them out. That men like your mate couldn’t stamp them out.”

Zeb growled. “Watch your tongue, Kafzyr. You know Kal is no longer that man.”

“Do I?” Kafzyr asked. “Do I really, Garazeb? I’ve granted him hospitality on your word, but the biggest thing I’ve learned about him was that he killed lasat for the Empire. He hunted you, personally. And somehow _this_ is the man you seek to mate?”

Zeb tensed, ready to argue, but Kallus laid a hand on his leg, silently telling him to back down.

“Perhaps that is all some people will ever know about me,” Kallus said. “But there _is_ more to my story. It starts with your brother’s mercy and ends with his forgiveness.”

“ _His_ forgiveness. Not ours,” Kafzyr said.

“What, if anything, would show you my genuine remorse for the past and my current good intentions?” Kallus asked bluntly.

“Demonstrating honor in your fight would be a start,” Kafzyr said.

Kallus nodded. “I can do that. What else?”

Kafzyr’s eyes seemed to glaze over, almost as if he was seeing another place and time. “A vigil, perhaps, to see if the Ashla blesses you or rejects you.”

Tarkorra gasped and if Zeb had suspected before, he knew then that his brother had, until that moment, completely turned his back on the Ashla, despite keeping the _Arkesana_ title. Vigils had been common enough that they went without comment, before the attack. For one to be a surprise now, Kafzyr had to have stopped them.

“You understand that even if you _are_ blessed by the Ashla, it does not mean forgiveness?” Kafzyr asked. “It means the Ashla wishes us to believe your words. It means we accept that you are in a relationship with my brother, learn from you when we can, teach you much more. Absolution is not something I can grant on behalf of the community. Forgiveness is a decision every survivor everywhere must make on their own.”

Kallus bowed his head momentarily. “Of course.”

“You’ll hold vigil tonight,” Kafzyr said, turning his back on Kallus and Zeb. “You’d better go prepare.”

* * *

Kallus spun the training bo-rifle, feeling the heft of it in his hands. It was so like his old bo-rifle that he inspected it, looking for where weights had been drilled into it, but the wood looked flawless.

“You look good,” Zeb said, holding his own training bo-rifle. “Like you’re s’posed to have one.”

Kallus gave him an indulgent look. “You’re biased.”

Zeb huffed. “You won one already. You shouldn’t have to win one again.”

“There’s no proof I ever won it,” Kallus pointed out. “Just my word. Come at me.”

Zeb complied, lunging forward and sweeping his staff out to tap Kallus in the side, but Kallus dodged just in time. His fighting instincts were still sharp, honed so carefully during the more than twenty years he’d been at war; even the month or so spent on Lira San hadn’t dulled them.

His bo-rifle skills were a slightly different story. Kallus’s brain fought with blaster and fists, not a staff anymore. The muscle memory was there, however, if he let himself focus on Zeb’s movements instead of his own.

Zeb tagged him in the leg while he was too busy analyzing his own performance.

Frustrated, Kallus tried to blow his hair out of his face – he might need to think about pulling it back for the real fight, as silly as that might look – and reset his stance. “Again.”

And again. And again. And again until his muscles ached from the weight of the training bo-rifle.

He didn’t stop, however. Kallus took the offensive that next time, rushing Zeb. Nine years ago when they fought, he might have tried a flashier move, a flip or spin perhaps, but nine years was a long time and his body didn’t move the same way anymore. He would have to depend on strategy instead of distraction.

Maybe surprise could still be on his side. Maybe he could be ready for a good show.

He attacked again, hard and fast.

Before Kallus could reach the point of exhaustion, Zeb stopped their constant sparring and leaned against the staff. “We’ll practice more tomorrow, but we need to get you ready for a vigil. Let’s go back to the house.”

Kallus didn’t yet know what a vigil entailed, but he imagined himself sitting somewhere out in the forest for the full night. It wasn’t an enticing prospect, but he’d agreed to it. “Lead the way.”

They kept their training staves as they walked through the village. The numerous stairs made his legs ache from the exertion. Maybe there would be time for a nap before this vigil.

Zeb was quiet as they entered the house, so different from the last time he burst in, happy to share his find at the old barracks. 

Kallus frowned. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, trying to guess the source of Zeb’s distraction.

“I’m always gonna do that,” he said, leaning his staff in the corner by the door.

An unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air. Kallus waited him out, watching Zeb’s ears twitch and flatten.

A sigh. “I’m just thinkin’ about somethin’ that happened when I was with Avi.”

Kallus stepped up close to Zeb, putting a hand on his arm, the fur damp with sweat. They both needed a shower, but that could wait. “What happened?”

Zeb shook his head. “It’s not important.”

“Zeb, if it happened to you, it’s important to me.”

Zeb looked at Kallus carefully. “I told you we were at the barracks. ‘S where I found the bo-rifle and training staffs and my old trunk,” he said, gesturing to the dusty box still sitting open on their table. “But…”

Kallus waited a beat before asking, “But what?”

Zeb’s ears drooped and he covered his eyes. “I couldn’t remember it.”

Kallus squeezed Zeb’s arm and circled him so they were facing each other. “What couldn’t you remember?”

“Anything.” Zeb sounded lost. “I _know_ I lived there, taught there, trained there. I _know_ I once knew all my Guardsmen by name and talents. But I _can’t remember any of it_.”

“It’s missing from your memory?” Kallus asked.

“Not quite. It’s still there, somewhere, but it’s too fuzzy. Couldn’t get ahold of it. Feels like all I need is a push, though, and I’d remember.” Zeb growled softly, rubbing his face. “It’s not important, like I said. It’s just me.”

Kallus pulled Zeb’s hand away from his face. “It’s you, which makes it important, like I said.”

Zeb looked at him for a moment. “I tried to forget all that for years. It hurt too much. I guess it worked.”

“Perhaps,” Kallus said. “I did much the same with Onderon and my involvement here until I met you. Just seeing a lasat again triggered those memories.”

“I never told you, but I couldn’t remember Gron when we rescued them from you,” Zeb said. “His face was familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. But when he told me who he was, it was like grabbin’ a rope someone tossed across a pit.”

Kallus nodded. He’d felt something similar when he saw Zeb for the first time, in the hallways of that ship, when he’d captured Ezra and learned just how clever the boy really was. Neurons finding the old pathways in his brain, he knew, but the rope analogy was apt.

“Same thing happened with Chaftin. But they’re both still alive. What about all the Guards who died? Am I going to forget them forever? Will I ever honor them?” Zeb’s voice was strained and Kallus wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

“I think you will,” he said. “I think you _have_ , by fighting the Empire.” Kallus winced when his brain tossed up the idea that those Guards wouldn’t appreciate Zeb mating him. That he’d personally been responsible for some of their deaths. Squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, Kallus fought those thoughts back. _Zeb_ had forgiven him. _Zeb_ had chosen him. _Zeb’s_ opinion was all that mattered.

Except that was a lie, wasn’t it? Or he wouldn’t be doing performative acts to appease Kafzyr. He wouldn’t need to do this vigil, he wouldn’t need to fight to earn his right to stay.

Mentally shaking himself, Kallus straightened and looked into Zeb’s bright green eyes. “You’ve done nothing to shame yourself. You _survived_ the best way that you could. You shared the Guard traditions on Lira San. You’re going to pass on your knowledge to Avirinkar. _That’s_ honoring them all.”

Zeb blinked, wiping away all trace of worry from his face. “You’re right,” he said, sounding only half-convinced. “I just need to keep doin’ what I’m doin’. It’ll come back to me.”

Kallus touched their foreheads together. “I sincerely hope it does.”

Zeb’s mouth twitched into a half-smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Enough o’ that,” he said. “Let’s get you ready.”

Kallus almost pushed him, but decided not to. “All right. What does this vigil involve? How am I supposed to know if the Ashla blesses me or not?”

“Well, let’s see,” Zeb said. “The vigil was more of an _arkesana_ thing, but Kafzyr told me ‘bout his. You’ll be in the forest, with the elders, and use a staff to channel the Ashla. Then the elders decide if what you saw was a sign of blessing or not.”

“How do I channel the Ashla?” Kallus wasn’t the least bit Force-sensitive, nor had he been the meditative type, so reaching out and touching something with his mind was a daunting prospect.

“I’ve only ever done it once,” Zeb said. “Used my bo-rifle.”

“Your bo-rife?” Kallus asked skeptically. “Bo-rifles channel the Ashla?”

“In a certain configuration, they do.” Zeb paused, frowning. “Prob’ly they do in any configuration, but it’s easier when you use it how the ancients did.”

Kallus looked toward the bedroom where Zeb’s bo-rifle sat on the dresser. “How _did_ the ancients use it?”

“Lemme show you.” Zeb bounded into the bedroom and came out with the bo-rifle in hand. “Here, watch this.” 

Zeb unfolded and refolded the bo-rifle in a configuration Kallus had never seen before, more of a trident shape, with the crackling purple electricity serving as the middle prong.

Kallus reached out and touched the bo-rifle lightly. “So what I’m hearing is that your bo-rifle, like this, channels the Ashla like whatever staff Kafzyr would give me?”

Zeb looked at the weapon appreciatively. “Yeah, guess so. You can use it if you wanna.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Kallus asked. “Me using your bo-rifle?”

“Not like it’s the first time,” Zeb said. “It’s for a good reason an’ we know it’s channeled the Ashla before.”

Kallus bit his lip, looking at Zeb. “I _do_ love you,” he said after a moment. “Why you’re so keen on mating me, I’m not sure, but I am glad for it.”

Zeb collapsed his bo-rifle in silence, setting it down on the table. “Kal, I want to mate you so you stop asking yourself questions like that. I want you to _know_ how much I love you.”

Kallus took a couple steps to close the distance between them. “I want you to know how much I appreciate that you’re willing to make me your mate and to volunteer to leave with me if I’m asked to leave, but Zeb… don’t do this as a show. Don’t feel I’ll hold you to it if you have the slightest reservations.”

“I don’t,” Zeb said. “But what about you? Is there some human ritual we should be doing? We can adapt the ceremony if you wanna add something.”

Kallus shook his head. “Wedding rituals change from planet to planet, class to class. On my level of Coruscant, you found a sector clerk and signed a contract. There weren’t very many ceremonies.”

Zeb frowned. “Well, that’s no fun. How do humans mark that they’re married? Here, it’s scent and a marking, bracelets if you want something physical.”

“Rings, usually,” Kallus said, holding up his left hand. “But I can’t imagine that’d be comfortable for you and, well, I’m usually in gloves anyway.”

“Bracelets, then?” Zeb asked. When Kallus nodded, he sighed and made a face. “I’m sorry this is all so sudden. Mating, your vigil, your fight. If Kafzyr had any compassion, he’d stretch it all out.”

“Zeb, we’d already talked about becoming mates,” Kallus pointed out, hoping none of his nerves showed through. “This _is_ quick, but it’s something we both want, right? All of this, all at once, is like ripping the bacta bandage off. Let’s just get it over with and be happy together, please?”

Zeb kissed Kallus’s forehead. “If I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

“You’re a sop,” Kallus said, smiling. “You’re also a mess right now. Let me show you the nice shower we have here. It’s big enough for both of us.”

The joke seemed to ease Zeb’s mind. “Lead the way, _ni ashkerra_ ,” he said.

Kallus took Zeb by the hand and led him to the refresher, where piece by piece, they undressed each other. And piece by piece, they took each other apart under the warm spray of water, until Kallus found himself in Zeb’s arms, sated and exhausted.

“How am I going to hold a vigil like this?” he asked as they dried off. “And what does one wear to a vigil?”

“I dunno,” Zeb said.

“Fat lot of good you are,” Kallus replied with a smile. He dug in his trunk and pulled out a nice tunic and pant set from Lira San: a rich brown embroidered with green and a matching belt. Holding it up for Zeb, he waited for a nod.

Zeb eyed the outfit hungrily. “You look good in that one,” he said after a moment.

“Good. Maybe it’ll seem like I’m showing respect if I’m dressed up,” Kallus said, pulling the pants on.

“Here.” Zeb picked up the belt sash. “Let me get this for you.”

Kallus raised his arms and let Zeb wrap the sash around him three times and then tie it in a practical – if not decorative – knot at his side. “You need to get dressed, too,” Kallus pointed out, one eyebrow arched. “Unless you plan to go unclad?”

Zeb laughed. “Can’t imagine what Kafzyr would say to that. Probably try to channel our _aman_ and scold me like a kit.”

While Zeb dressed, Kallus fidgeted with his tunic, smoothing out wrinkles and bemoaning the little bit of weight he’d put on in the last few years.

“Stop it,” Zeb said, not even looking at Kallus. “You aren’t fat.”

“How do you know that’s what I was thinking?” Kallus asked.

Zeb rolled his eyes. “Anytime you can’t leave your shirt alone, that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well, this _would_ be inappropriate for an ISB Agent,” Kallus said.

“So would mating a lasat,” Zeb pointed out. “Since when does the ISB matter?”

Kallus sighed. “You’re right.”

“‘Course I am,” Zeb said, coming over and wrapping his hands completely around Kallus’s waist. “See? Still skinny enough I can do this. And even if I couldn’t, I’d still think you were beautiful.”

Kallus swallowed, unsure of what to say to that. He placed his hands atop Zeb’s, massaging his fingers lightly into the short fur. “What else do I need before the vigil?” he asked. “Sunset will be soon.”

“Food,” Zeb said. “Don’t want you faintin’ from hunger.”

“I would not _faint_ , Garazeb,” Kallus fussed.

Zeb laughed, pulling his hands back. “‘Course you wouldn’t. You’d fall over in a dignified fashion.”

He gave Kallus a light kiss, still smiling. Rather than let him go, however, Kallus lightly held his ears, just enough to keep him from pulling away, and kissed him deeper.

“Mate,” he said softly when they broke. “Husband. I do like the sound of that.”

“Mm,” hummed Zeb. “So do I.”

“Do I take your name, you think? Orrelios is a name with honor. Kallus… not so much.”

Zeb smiled again. “Only if you wanna. Lasat don’t usually change their names when they mate. Only fuss we’d have would be if we adopted kits. They usually take their _aman_ ’s name and since we don’t have one...”

Kallus had known that from Lira San, but he nodded as if it were new to him. It was the easiest thing to do when his brain had short-circuited at the mention of kits. “We’ll see, then.” He pulled back a little. “You want kits?”

Zeb nodded. “If we’re mated, I’d like a full family, since otherwise all I have is Kafzyr and Avi. Unless you don’t…?”

“I don’t know,” Kallus answered honestly. “It was never something I thought would be an option for me.” _This is something we should be working out before we mate_ , he thought.

Apparently Zeb thought the same thing, because he frowned a little. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? After the vigil. Before the ceremony.”

“If it’s important to you,” Kallus said, “then we should talk now.”

“No,” Zeb said. “Now we get you food. Let me cook for you.”

“Let me help,” Kallus offered.

Zeb shook his head. “You sit at the table and look pretty. Try to clear your mind.”

Kallus was pretty sure that no matter how long he sat at the table ‘looking pretty,’ that he wouldn’t clear his mind. Too many things had been said and promised for that.

Everything was happening so quickly that it was overwhelming. The only way to get through it would be to take it all one step at a time.

Vigil. Mating ceremony. Fight. The fallout of the vigil and the fight. And then, married life. And… kits?


	11. Ten

It ought to be all right. The vigil was nothing to worry about.

Kallus kept repeating that to himself as he followed Kafzyr and some of the village elders out into the woods, Zeb walking next to him. All around them, dusk was falling, casting long, dark shadows beneath the trees.

They stopped in a clearing about a kilometer from Velencia. Rocks set out in a circle led Kallus to think that they were in some sort of sacred spot or at least a special meeting place.

Kafzyr motioned him to the center, staff in hand, and glanced at Zeb before speaking to Kallus. “You still choose the bo-rifle?” he asked.

“I do.” Kallus watched as Zeb started configuring his bo-rifle in the trident fashion. As the ancients had used it. As Zeb had used it to navigate to Lira San.

Zeb handed over the bo-rifle and Kallus took it, feeling the residual heat from Zeb’s touch leeching into his own fingers. He set and reset his grip, finding a comfortable position that wouldn’t cramp his hands in a short period of time.

Following Kafzyr’s direction, Kallus knelt in the center of the circle, still gripping the bo-rifle in his lap. All around him, the elders joined together, each one placing their hand on the next’s shoulder until there was an unbroken chain circling around Kallus and ending with Kafzyr.

Kafzyr placed his hand on Kallus’s shoulder, a heavy weight pressing him into the soft ground.

Kallus looked up at Zeb, sharing the center of the circle with him, and got an encouraging smile. Zeb knelt in front of him and placed a hand on his other shoulder.

And that was it. Kallus was surrounded by lasat, all waiting for _something_. He still wasn’t clear on _how_ the bo-rifle would channel the Ashla for him.

It all centered on the bo-rifle, however, so Kallus focused on it, picturing in his mind behind closed eyes. Well, picturing _his_ old bo-rifle that he’d known intimately. Pictured taking it apart and putting it back together, clean and oiled and well-cared for. Pictured folding it like Zeb had his, into a black trident with golden electricity crackling in the middle.

He felt warmth coming from Zeb and Kafzyr’s hands, more warmth than a lasat usually produced. The heat radiated through his body to his hands and there was almost a static shock when it reached the bo-rifle. Was that the Ashla?

The crackling of the bo-rifle grew louder until it filled Kallus’s ears, blocking out all sounds from the forest, even the breathing of those around him.

Kallus tried to open himself up to whatever was happening, but it was difficult. He was a man of self-control and barely covered-up anxieties. _Opening up_ was not in his repertoire.

He breathed slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He forced muscles to relax. He did everything he could think of to let in the Ashla.

 _Come on, Ashla. Come bless me or condemn me so that I know my place on this world_.

Even though his eyes were closed, the purple of Zeb’s bo-rifle shone through his eyelids.

Or did it? Kallus focused on the purple, realizing it was in his mind, not an outside force. It grew, grew until it was all he could perceive. He tumbled into the sea of purple and came out–

–in a Lasan forest, but not the one his body was in. It was the middle of the siege and he was locked in battle with an Honor Guard member. The Guard was quick and skilled, but he was tired and Kallus was full of youthful vigor and righteousness. He used his T-7, not to shoot the Guard, but to block his strikes from the bo-rifle.

The fight was over sooner than Kallus remembered, the benefit of hindsight. The Honor Guard fell to his knees in front of Kallus.

“Shoot me,” the Guard challenged. “Disintegrate me as you have others.”

Breathing heavily from exertion and excitement, Kallus replied, “You’re the only one to fight me with the staff today, not the rifle. You challenged me instead of fighting from afar or running. I’ll grant you the decision of how you will die today.”

The Guard looked up at him, green eyes aflame, and held up his bo-rifle. “You fought well and have shown me respect and honor,” he said. “Take my weapon. I would rather die by it in your hands than be subject to your terrible one.”

At the time, Kallus hadn’t been sure what possessed him to take the bo-rifle, but it had seemed to call to him. He gripped the metal stock, hot from use. “Fair enough, lasat.”

“Keep it,” the Guard said. “Treat it with honor and dignity and maybe it will guide you to a better end than it guided me.”

Kallus raised the bo-rifle and–

–he was on the bridge of an Imperial ship. _Arquitens_ -class, if he wasn’t mistaken by the bridge layout. Behind him, the annoying voice of Hondo Ohnaka wouldn’t quit, beside him stood Konstantine, and in front of him…

A swirling maelstrom of color and light filled the viewport, letting Kallus know exactly when and where he was. He was about to drive the _Ghost_ to their deaths, or so he’d thought. 

The _Ghost_ somehow didn’t break apart even as the TIEs Kallus had sent after them did. Even after the command ship itself started tearing apart. Instead, it flew straight into the star cluster, a place no ship should have been able to survive. Kallus had traveled that dangerous path himself in the present, but at the time, he’d truly believed the _Ghost_ ’s crew had destroyed themselves rather than face Imperial justice.

The _Ghost_ disappeared as Konstantine’s ship took damage from the gravity wells of the stars. Any moment now, he would call for a full retreat and–

–his view changed. He was _on_ the _Ghost_ , looking at Zeb’s bo-rifle spreading purple tendrils of energy across the console as bright colors flashed outside – hyperspace as only seen on the journey to and from Lira San. It took Kallus a moment to realize that he was seeing the event through _Zeb’s_ eyes as the bo-rifle overtook the entire ship, causing his eyes to close and reopen moments later. He – or rather, Zeb – looked out the viewport and there, among the yellow nebular clouds, was Lira San, shining golden and bright.

Zeb straightened and saw Chava with a smug look on her face. 

“The Fool led us to the Child, and the Warrior to us, but the Child showed the way. Just as the prophecy states.”

Zeb’s reply was lost as purple crept in at the edge of Kallus’s vision again. He tumbled–

–into the snow and wind and freezing cold of Bahryn, Zeb’s bo-rifle in his hands as Zeb fought to climb out of the cavern.

A moment of indecision, moving the muzzle of the bo-rifle back and forth between Zeb and the creature attacking him and even back then, it hadn’t really been a question, had it? He’d tried to tell himself to shoot Zeb, to kill the Rebel, but he’d already made up his mind to save the lasat’s life. Kallus fired, hitting the creature between the eyes and extended his hand to Zeb–

–which led to another vision shift, back to Zeb’s head. He saw himself standing in the snow, looking as Imperial as he ever had, a sickening thing these many years later but a point of pride back then. Zeb reached out and took his hand. Kallus pulled Zeb up and they landed in a heap with Zeb atop Kallus. From inside Zeb’s head, Kallus remembered the weight of him on his leg, how much it had hurt, but he couldn’t show weakness to _anyone_ , particularly not a nominal enemy.

Even in the wind, Zeb’s scent had been strong, pungent and musky, and perhaps it had been the adrenaline still coursing through him, but back then it hadn’t seemed so bad ( _and never would again_ ). Not after Zeb had worked so hard to save Kallus’s life. Not after Kallus had saved his life.

Kallus knew what was next as Zeb took back his bo-rifle: a long, cold walk to a cave, but it never happened. He blinked and purple swirled again–

–this time he was in a seedy bar on Garel, looking across the table at Cassian Andor, although at the time he only knew the young man as Fulcrum and as the one who was setting him up to be a spy.

Well, that was only partly true. Kallus had contacted the Rebellion on his own and Andor had been sent to judge his sincerity and give him information better not broadcast over even Rebel comm frequencies.

The talk itself was no longer of any interest to Kallus, instructions and code phrases he’d had to commit to memory, but the bar itself was. Garel was an Imperial stronghold, right next to Lothal, and as such the place ought to have been filled with off-duty stormtroopers and officers.

But for the first time, Kallus realized that no one had ever looked their way. No troopers walked by their table, no waiters asked for credits for their silence. It felt like they must have been protected by _something_.

The Ashla?

“Tell me the code phrase one more time,” Andor said, his Festian accent pleasant to the ear. 

“By the light of Lothal’s moons,” Kallus said, belabored. “I told you, I can memorize whatever you give me.”

“You’d better,” Andor replied. “It may be the difference between life and death for you and any of our agents you meet.”

“ _Fulcrum_ ,” Kallus said. “I have spent my life memorizing minutia from the taste of Alderaanian wine versus Ralltiirian to the quirks of every single officer aboard a Star Destroyer. _Trust me_.”

“I am,” Andor said. “The whole movement is. You could still easily be an ISB trap.”

“I could.” Kallus took a sip of his drink, a poor local excuse for whiskey, strong but tasteless. “But I’d have to know more than what scraps you’ve told me for it to be worth the ISB’s while.”

Andor frowned at Kallus’s attempt at levity, almost as badly done as the whiskey. Kallus stood, leaving a few credits on the table and took a step–

–right into Ezra’s tower, where he was hung from a support by his wrists. The binders dug into his skin, his sides ached as the death troopers had beaten him, and his leg burned where Thrawn had aggravated his old injury.

Thrawn was nowhere to be seen, which meant Kallus was far enough into the torture that the chiss had stopped gloating and grown bored with watching Kallus be hurt.

The death troopers had _not_ tired, however. Lines of electricity burned across his skin, singing his clothing and lighting his nerves afire. He had not cried out, however. Somehow, from somewhere deep inside him, he’d had the strength to hold his tongue. He had no information to give them – the Rebels had been too careful for that – but he could give them the satisfaction of making him beg.

They tried to make him, but Kallus was made of sterner stuff than that, trained to outlast torturers and filled with righteous fury. He’d always had that fury, but it had been aimed _at_ the Rebels. Now it was on _behalf_ of the Rebels.

He’d outlast the death troopers. He’d outlast Thrawn. He’d go until they outright killed him. He’d–

–find himself on the _Ghost_ yet again, seeing himself stand in the cabin hallway, hunched in on himself.

Kallus had never realized he’d looked _that_ bad.

He was in Zeb’s head again, watching as the lasat insisted on helping him to the medical droid despite his protests. Kallus remembered clearly how _safe_ he felt leaning into Zeb’s side, for the first time since Bahryn. Zeb kept him upright and walked him into a cabin after the droid let him go, settling him into a bed that smelled of the lasat.

He watched his eyes flutter closed as soon as he hit the mattress. The purple crept in again.

Kallus’s memories – or were they visions? – didn’t stop there. He tumbled through the rest of the war, seeing himself from both his own and Zeb’s points of view: Lothal, Yavin, Hoth, Fulcrum missions on the Glimmer, even the aftermath of Endor.

He was walking through the door to their house on Lira San when he felt the sudden urge to open his eyes, breaking the cycle and bringing him back to the present.

Kallus leaned back, gasping for breath, feeling as if he’d run several kilometers without rest or water. The bo-rifle crackled in his hands and Zeb squeezed his shoulder, eyes glistening in the moonlight.

Kafzyr’s hand dropped from Kallus’s shoulder. “Wait with Garazeb outside the circle,” he said curtly, sounds almost as exhausted as Kallus himself.

Kallus nodded, throat too dry to speak just yet. Zeb stood, taking his bo-rifle back, and helped Kallus up with his free hand. One long arm around Kallus’s waist, the two walked one into the forest.

Zeb didn’t close the bo-rifle right away, rotating it in his hand and using it as a torch to light their way.

“What–?” Kallus asked, voice scratchy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What happened to me there?”

Zeb held him tightly. “You channeled the Ashla. You got some of my memories, too – I think ‘cause you were using my bo-rifle.”

“How do you know what I saw?”

“Because we were touching you, it channeled through us as well,” Zeb said. “Kinda like how Kanan an’ Ezra helped me guide us through the star cluster to Lira San.”

Kallus watched the group of elders talking. “So everyone saw what I saw. Is that a good thing?”

“Dunno. Depends on if they decide that means the Ashla likes you.” Zeb shrugged. “I think it does, but it’s not my opinion that matters.”

Kallus tried to think of anything that might work against him. He stopped breathing when he realized what Zeb had seen.

“You saw me here,” he said, aghast. “You saw what I did.”

“I saw you fight an Honor Guard in an impressive fashion. You didn’t take any cheap shots. You gave him some dignity.”

Kallus shook his head. “No, he was one of yours. Did you know him?”

Zeb tightened his grip around Kallus’s waist. “I did.”

“You remembered him?” Kallus couldn’t look Zeb in the face, but he wanted to know.

“Djen Olus,” Zeb said. “He helped train me.”

Kallus closed his eyes, feeling the blood drain from his face. He tried to pull away, but Zeb wouldn’t let go. “Zeb, no. I killed a mentor of yours. You can’t still want–”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Zeb said sharply. “We’ve been over this. You don’t get to tell me what I think.”

The vehemence in Zeb’s tone made Kallus stop trying to get away. “I’m not doing that,” he said. “I’m attempting to give you a way out.”

“Kal.” Zeb moved so he could touch their foreheads. “Listen to me. What I saw was a misguided kit in battle. Djen was doing his best to kill you, too. And for as horrible as that day was, I will always be glad you made it through.”

“How can you look at it like that?” Kallus asked. “How can you still see the good in me?”

Zeb gave him a look. “Didn’t you see the rest of it? You _changed_. The Ashla touched you here twenty years ago, and it touched you again on Bahryn. And again and again and again after that. Even if my brother doesn’t see it, I did. And I love you for it.”

Kallus shook his head slightly, still in slight disbelief. “You’re mad, Garazeb Orrelios, but I love you for it, too.”

A throat cleared behind Kallus and he turned in Zeb’s arms to see Kafzyr watching them, arms crossed. He half expected Zeb to drop his arm and step away, embarrassed at being caught, but Zeb stayed exactly as he was.

So Kallus did too.

The edge of Kafzyr’s mouth twitched upwards. Kallus almost would have missed it if he wasn’t so familiar with Zeb making the same gesture. “Come join us,” Kafzyr said.

Kallus and Zeb moved back into the circle. The elders had all seated themselves on the stones, so they followed suit.

“We don’t usually see that number of visions,” said one elder, a tan lasat definitely old enough to have been an elder still before the Imperial attack.

“And we don’t usually see one of our own being killed,” said another.

“But it’s clear you won your bo-rifle through the _Boosahn Keeraw_ ,” said Kafzyr. He didn’t sound enthused about the fact. “And that the Ashla has guided you here.”

“Your claim that he is the Warrior of prophecy has some standing,” said the first elder.

Zeb stared at his brother. “So Kal is stayin’, then? And you’ll let him carry a bo-rifle?”

Kafzyr laughed shortly. “It’s not my place to turn him away, if the Ashla led him here. As for the bo-rifle, we’ll see how he fares against Chaftin. Let him win one again.” He nodded, which seemed to be a signal for the elders to leave.

Zeb stood. “I still want to mate this man,” he called out, loud enough all the elders could hear him. “Tonight, if possible.”

“Be patient, Garazeb,” Kafzyr said, holding up a hand. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

Tomorrow. Kallus felt his stomach clench. Not from indecision or regret, just nerves. Zeb really wanted to tie himself to Kallus for the rest of their lives – well, the rest of Kallus’ life since lasat lifespans were usually a bit longer.

After all Zeb had seen and experienced at Kallus’s hand, _he still wanted to marry him_.

Kallus wasn’t sure he’d ever understand it.

* * *

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Zeb emerged from his house. He’d left Kallus still asleep; the vigil had been exhausting for him. For Zeb, too, but he couldn’t sleep knowing that he was going to get to make Kallus his mate.

Before that happened, he had one last thing to do, however.

Zeb escaped the village, taking a slontele back to the _Glimmer_. The ship had been in standby mode for the last week, waking up as Zeb made his way to the cockpit.

There, he called up a familiar comm frequency; if he didn’t tell Hera that they were having a ceremony _before_ it happened, Zeb would be in deep shavit.

Hera’s face floated above the holocomm, showing she was using her wrist unit to answer. She smiled brightly when she saw Zeb.

“Are you busy?” Zeb asked quickly.

Hera looked around. “I’m in a hangar, but I don’t have to be anywhere in particular. What’s going on?”

Zeb’s fur ruffled. “We’re on Lasan and we’re not here alone. There were lasat who survived the attack and have been livin’ here primitively since,” he explained. “They’re the ones who took out the Imperial garrison.”

Eyes wide, Hera nodded. “So you need the New Republic to come relieve them?”

“I’m workin’ on convincin’ them of that,” Zeb said. “But… Hera, the leader of the survivors is my brother.”

“Your brother’s still alive?” Hera’s smile widened even more. “Zeb, that’s wonderful!”

Zeb hemmed and hawed. “Mostly,” he admitted. “But things have happened quickly here. And, well, Kal and I are havin’ a mating ceremony today and I wanted you to know before it happened.”

Hera blinked. “Okay, how does that follow?”

“Kafzyr shot Kal when he first saw him, thinkin’ he was Imperial. Now that the village here _knows_ he used to be Imperial, they’re not keen on him stayin’ now that he’s healed up. The only way we have to convince them is for Kal to fight for a bo-rifle and somehow in the middle of all this, I, uh, proposed.”

“Zeb,” Hera said patiently. “Slow down. Walk me through that again, with detail this time.”

So Zeb did, taking a good half-hour to catch Hera up on every development, from their arrival to the vigil.

“Zeb,” Hera repeated.

“Yeah?”

“You realize that if you have that ceremony before I can get there, I’m kicking your ass to Lothal and back.” Hera looked around. “I’m grabbing Jacen and heading your way. Tell your brother not to shoot us on arrival.”

“Hera, you don’t have to–”

“Zeb, you’re still family, whether you found your brother or not. I’m _going_ to be there. The _Ghost_ is still primed and ready to go; I haven’t put her in storage.” It was obvious from the way Hera’s head was bobbing in the holo that she was walking. “We’ll land where?”

“The old capital, Ithdasira,” Zeb said. “There’s a beacon here, just follow it in. You should see the _Glimmer_ by the old palace.”

“I’ll see you in about ten hours,” Hera said. “Do _not_ start without us.”

“Yes, General,” Zeb said, smiling at her inevitable protest.

“You know better, Zeb,” she fussed, shaking her head. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Zeb said. He sighed as they disconnected. He hadn’t meant for Hera to drop everything and fly to Lasan just for the ceremony, but he couldn’t deny the idea made him happy.

He made it back to their house just in time to catch Kallus eating breakfast, leaning against the counter rather than sitting at the table.

The human arched an eyebrow, perfectly golden in the morning sun coming through the windows. “Where have you been?” he asked, managing not to sound accusing.

Zeb scratched the back of his head. “I went to send Hera a comm to let her know what’s happenin’.”

Kallus set down his plate. “And?”

 _How does he always know_? Zeb thought. “She’s grabbin’ Jacen and headin’ our way. Wants to be here for the ceremony.”

Kallus nodded. “That makes sense. They’re as much your family as Kafzyr and Avi are. They ought to be here.”

“I didn’t mean for her to do that!” Zeb insisted. “I just wanted her to know.”

Kallus gave Zeb an amused look. “You knew as soon as you decided to tell her that she’d come if she could. Is she going to make it?”

Zeb didn’t deign to respond to Kallus’s first statement. “Should. It’s about a nine, ten hour hyperspace trip. I think.”

“What _is_ our plan for the day?” Kallus asked.

“Well, ceremonies don’t get started until evenin’, so I thought we’d spar some this morning and then use the afternoon to get ready.” Zeb shrugged. “Haven’t run that by anyone yet, though. Prob’ly oughtta.”

Kallus glanced out the window overlooking the stairway. “Here’s your chance.”

Zeb made it to the door just in time to welcome Vashtyr. He’d been expecting his brother, not his brother’s mate, but he greeted her warmly just the same.

“Zyr’s busy this morning, but I wanted to talk to you about the ceremony,” she said.

Zeb gestured for them all to sit down at the table.

“Unlike what Zyr said last night, the ceremony’s much the same, with the major difference that it’s friends who bless you at the start, not family.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Seeing as most of us don’t have family to bless us.”

Zeb nodded. That made sense. “But Kafzyr will…?”

“For you? Yes.” Vashtyr smiled softly. “He hasn’t been the best at showing it, but he’s incredibly happy to have you back.”

Kallus rested a hand on top of Zeb’s arm. “Is it a problem that I won’t have anyone?” he asked. “My family and friends beyond Zeb are either dead or too far away.”

Zeb shook his head. “Hera can stand for you.”

“Actually,” Vashtyr said. “I’ve informed Zyr that both Tarkorra and I will be blessing you, Kal.”

Zeb looked at his brother’s mate with a newfound appreciation. Zyr might be the nominal head of the village, but Vashtyr was head of his household. If she said something, he would obey, even if he didn’t like it. “You’d do that?” he asked.

Vashtyr nodded. “I’ve been working with Kal on Lasana for the last week and Tarkorra saw him every day for his wound. I’d say we know him as well as anyone here who isn’t you.”

“Thank you,” Kallus said graciously. He glanced at Zeb, rubbing the fur of his arm with his thumb. “Zeb also told me one of our friends from the New Republic will be joining us.”

“I heard Zeb mention Hera. The twi’lek pilot, right?”

“Right,” Zeb said, though Hera was so much more than just the ‘twi’lek pilot.’

“So,” Vashtyr laid her hands out, open, on the table. “At some point today, you will both need to dress and you, Kal, will need to learn how to speak the vow. Plan to come to me after lunch and we’ll work on that.”

Kallus nodded. “We were going to spar this morning in preparation for tomorrow. Will that be a problem?”

“No, it shouldn’t be,” Vashtyr said. She stood, pushing her chair back in. “Join us for lunch if you like, both of you.”

“Thank you,” Kallus said, standing as well. “We may do that.”

After Vashtyr left, Zeb looked at Kallus. “That’s about as good as we can get right now, I think,” he said. “Sure you don’t want to ask Hera to stand for you?

“She’s your family,” Kallus said. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping her from being in your party.”

“Thank you,” Zeb said. “If you change your mind, though…”

“I _won’t_.” Kallus gave Zeb a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll have Vashtyr and Tarkorra. And I have you. That’s enough for me.”

Zeb couldn’t help his grin. “Now who’s the sop?” His grin grew. “You know, sometimes I wish I could go back to Bahryn or before and tell Imperial you just who you’d become. What _we’d_ become.”

“I would have had a heart attack if I even believed you,” Kallus said, with a mischievous look on his face. “I might have considered it some terrible Rebel plot to unnerve me.”

“Well, yeah,” Zeb said. “That’s exactly what it would have been.”

Kallus shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Let me pull this back and we’ll go spar.” He frowned. “I should cut it sometime.”

“Don’t,” Zeb said. “Don’t cut it and don’t shave your beard. You look good like this.”

“Shaggy and unkempt?”

“Furry,” Zeb said, smiling. He waited while Kallus found a leather strap to bind most of his hair up, picking up the two training staves they’d used the day before.

Together, they walked hand-in-hand through the village. Only curious looks were shot their way, confirming Zeb’s suspicion that the news of their mating ceremony had already spread throughout the village.

He loved his people, but sometimes lasat were terrible gossips.

Chaftin approached them once they reached the forest floor. “May I come observe?” she asked.

“Lookin’ for hints on how to fight him?” Zeb asked, a little defensive.

Kallus squeezed his hand. “It’s _fine_. You’re welcome to join us if you like, Chaftin.” He looked at Zeb.

She fell in step with them as they sought out the clearing they’d used the day before. “Will you wear your armor, Garazeb?” she asked.

Zeb looked down at himself. He was in loose pants and a belted sleeveless tunic, the standard outfit. He had planned on changing into his Honor Guard dress uniform, but hadn’t figured on wearing his armor. “It’s, uh, not exactly in the best of shape,” he admitted. “I used it all through the war. Been repainted a few dozen times, too.” 

“Bring it by this afternoon,” Chaftin suggested. “We’ll get it polished again.”

“Okay.” Zeb liked the idea of wearing his armor over his uniform, as he used to. He wished Kallus had saved his Imperial armor instead of donating it to the Intelligence disguise closet. They could have painted it, too. As it was, Kallus had fought without armor for years.

Chaftin leaned against a tree as Zeb and Kallus both went through warm-up routines, watching them both, Zeb noticed. Once again, it felt like _he_ was being evaluated for worthiness as much as Kallus was.

He and Kallus went through the basic forms Zeb had taught him the day before and then, once they were ready, Zeb stood while Kallus attacked. He didn’t use Honor Guard forms any more; he was a fiend with a staff, coming at Zeb from unexpected directions.

Zeb grinned as he blocked. He hadn’t fought like this since before Kallus defected – and only against Kallus himself. He used his full strength against his mate-to-be, trying to emulate the force Chaftin would use against him.

Kallus couldn’t match him in strength, never had been able to, but he was quicker, even nine years after their first fight. Zeb had to be extra observant to avoid Kallus’s blows.

The first round ended when Zeb tagged Kallus in the stomach. The second when Kallus tapped him on the shoulder. The third…

Well, the third saw them both tired and sluggish and Zeb was willing to call it a draw, but Kallus refused to stop.

“Chaftin won’t call a draw,” he hissed. “Now _fight me_.”

Zeb reached down deep and found the last bit of energy he needed to rush Kallus one more time. It didn’t grant him the speed or balance he needed to stop Kallus from knocking him off his feet. 

He blocked Kallus’s downward blow, rotating his staff to tag Kallus in the leg.

Kallus backed off, chest heaving, and held a hand out to Zeb to help him stand. “I think three is all I have in me right this morning.” 

Zeb gripped Kallus’s hand and got to his feet. “This might be your last chance to train. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Kallus said. “Anything more will just exhaust me.”

Zeb grinned. “Can’t have that. I have plans for you tonight.”

“All right,” Chaftin said from her spot against the tree. “I don’t need to be here for _that_ sort of sparring.”

Zeb turned his grin on her. “Did you see what you needed?”

“I did,” she said, gesturing them closer. “Go get your armor, Garazeb, and we’ll get it ready.”

Kallus glanced up at the sun. “Not quite lunchtime. I’ll clean up and meet with Tarkorra to find out what _I_ need to be doing.”

Zeb sent Kallus off to Tarkorra’s with a kiss, aware he might not see him again until the ceremony, if he really was to be given an afternoon’s course in Lasana traditions. Grabbing his armor, still painted orange with loth-cats and -wolves from the last time Sabine decided he needed a makeover, he set off for the Honor Guard training grounds.

Chaftin _tsk_ ed disapprovingly as she examined Zeb’s armor, the paint chipped and scratched.

He refused to be ashamed. It was battle armor, not ceremonial, and he’d used it as such.

He followed her into the equipment shed, where she pulled out black and silver paints that matched the uniform she wore – and that Zeb would wear that night.

He polished up pieces before handing them to her for painting, a process that took up a few hours. His stomach was rumbling before they were through, but he didn’t complain.

Finally, Chaftin painted the last piece and set it aside to dry.

Zeb looked around the room, letting memories of training come back to him. His eyes rested on a small set of armor, the perfect size for a teenage kit attempting to join the Honor Guard.

It was also the perfect size for someone else.

“Chaftin,” Zeb said. “Would you agree from what you have heard and seen that Kal is a warrior?”

“I’d say so,” she said. “Why?”

“Warriors deserve armor,” he said, nodding at the youth set. “Can Kal wear that tonight?”

She froze. “You want to put him in Honor Guard armor?”

“I want to put him in _some_ armor. Tonight and tomorrow for the fight. You’ll be wearin’ yours, won’t you?”

“Kafzyr won’t approve,” she said warily.

“Kafzyr doesn’t have to approve,” Zeb pointed out. “ _You’re_ Captain. You decide who has earned armor and who hasn’t. And if Kal is a warrior, he’s earned some.”

Chaftin didn’t say anything.

“You can repaint it,” Zeb said. “Make it gold and green.”

She sighed. “It’s on your head if this goes belly-up.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

Zeb helped Chaftin repaint the teenager’s armor, carefully applying a Fulcrum symbol on the right side of the chest piece. Chaftin looked at the mark curiously and Zeb explained, “That’s the symbol for the type of agent Kallus was for the Rebellion. Fulcrum. He started as a spy inside the Empire and ended runnin’ Intelligence gatherin’ missions across the galaxy.”

Chaftin hummed. “Sounds like he was busy.”

Zeb laughed. “Just a bit. So was I. I barely saw him that last year of the war.” He looked at her. “One of my worst years, to be honest. Kept worryin’ about him. Wondered what would happen if he died and I had to live knowing I’d never told him how he made me feel.”

“So you did the next time you saw him?” she asked.

“No,” Zeb snorted. “Like an idiot, we both danced around each other. _Slept_ with each other, but I thought it must have just been an exhilaration kriff. Wasn’t ‘til we got here, ‘till Kafzyr shot him and he actually almost died that I told him.”

“Why wait so long?” Chaftin frowned. “It’s obvious the two of you love each other.”

“Obvious to everyone _but_ us. An’ Kal’s got this huge guilty conscience. Keeps thinkin’ he doesn’t deserve me.” Zeb shook his head. “Have to keep remindin’ him that it’s not what _he_ thinks that matters.”

“What about you?” she asked. “What kept you from saying anything?”

Zeb huffed. “Thought at first it’d be betrayin’ everyone here who died. Then I thought he must still hate nonhumans ‘cause the Empire. Then I think… I think I was just scared. I lost so many people I loved already, what would happen if I lost one more? Someone I let in so closely?”

“You didn’t lose everyone,” Chaftin pointed out. “Some of us were still here.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that.” Zeb pushed off the workbench and motioned for Chaftin to follow. “C’mon, let’s find lunch.”

Zeb and Chaftin left the paint-fume filled shed and he led the way to Kafzyr’s house, hoping Vashtyr had saved some food into the afternoon.

Vashtyr was gone, but Kafzyr and Avi graciously shared leftovers.

Feeling invigorated after the wins that morning – Kallus sparring well even against a lasat going full-strength, getting the armor for them both – Zeb argued good-naturedly with his brother, recalling the details of their sister’s mating ceremony years before. Which of them had looked more handsome in their uniforms and regalia, who’d danced with more partners, who’d held their liquor better.

Deep down, part of Zeb wished he was having a large party like Jenobra’d had, that Sabine – and Ezra, wherever he was – could join them, that there wasn’t any ill will surrounding his mate-to-be.

That would stop, he was determined. After the ceremony, after the fight, when Kallus won his bo-rifle and was mated to him, he’d be accepted.

They’d _have_ to.

Zeb entertained Avi with Rebellion stories all afternoon – the kit was as interested in the ships and technology as he was his uncle’s derring-do – and only stopped when the sun dipped low enough in the sky to be seen through the windows.

“I’m goin’ back to the _Glimmer_ ,” he announced. “Gonna get ready there and wait for Hera an’ Jacen.”

“How will we know if you’re running late?” Kafzyr asked. “Don’t want to leave your mate alone at the ceremony.”

Zeb thought for a minute. “Tarkorra,” he said. “Gave her a comlink when we got here, haven’t gotten around to taking it back. I’ll keep in touch by comm.”

Kafzyr didn’t look happy, but he agreed.

Chaftin walked with Zeb back to the equipment shed, where they both picked up armor – Zeb his own, Chaftin the smaller set to take to Kallus.

Zeb smiled as she headed back to the village, wondering what Kallus would think of the armor and the Fulcrum symbol.

Once at the _Glimmer_ , Zeb dressed himself carefully. A tight black tunic and pants set with silver edging. Silver sash from his shoulder to his waist. Black-and-silver chestplate, elbow and knee guards, and silver cloth to protect his hands. Last of all was the black-and-silver weapons belt, settled on his hips.

He looked in the mirror and saw a stranger.

He wasn’t the youngest Honor Guard Captain in history anymore. He didn’t belong in the uniform, nice as it looked. He’d have been more comfortable pulling on one of his jumpsuits from the Spectre days and keeping the scuffed and painted armor.

But Kallus deserved better than that. This was their mating day. Kallus deserved to have good memories of it and Zeb wanted to give them to him. If dressing up would make a statement that someone of honor chose Kallus, that Kallus also had honor, then Zeb would do it.

“You look nice,” came Hera’s soft voice behind him.

Zeb spun, beaming already. “Hera! Jacen!”

The kit ran into Zeb’s arms and Zeb obligingly swung him around in the hallway. 

“You left the ramp down, so we came on in,” Hera said. She and Jacen were both in dress clothes, obviously ready to go straight to the ceremony. “You must’ve been really thinking, if you didn’t hear us land or Jacen chatter the whole way into the ship.”

Zeb embraced Hera with one arm, holding Jacen in the other. “I was. But I’m better now you’re here.” He grinned. “Can’t wait to introduce this one to my nephew Avi. He’s older but still very playful.”

“I’m so glad you found your family again,” Hera said.

Zeb squeezed her shoulder. “I already had family. An’ now I’m gettin’ ready to have more. Not too bad for a guy who thought he was the last lasat around.”

“Speaking of adding family, what time’s the wedding?” Hera asked.

“Uh, the ceremony’s at dusk.” Zeb glanced around as they walked down the ramp. It was nearly time already. “Guess I better comm them and tell ‘em we’re headed that way.”

After a quick exchange with Tarkorra, Zeb settled both Hera and Jacen on the slontele in front of him and set off for Velencia, telling her about the ceremony along the way.

It felt good to have Hera there. He’d missed her and the kit more than he’d admitted to himself and if anyone should be there to see him mated to Kallus, it ought to be her. She’d done as much as he had to ease Kallus’s way into the Rebellion. She knew the risks he’d taken. She knew the sacrifices they’d all made along the way.

Hera _understood_ in a way Kafzyr never would; Zeb also knew he would never understand his brother’s past either.

If it weren’t for the promise of Kallus waiting for him in Velencia, it might have made Zeb sad. But Kallus would be there, decked out in armor, ready to be blessed, mated, and fed.

Holding securely on to Jacen and Hera, Zeb urged the slontele to go faster.

It was time for him to be mated.


	12. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vows and blessing are courtesy of Anath_Tsurugi, translations in text.  
> Djadan – uncle  
> Adan – father

If by some strange fumble of his heart, he’d been married while serving the Empire, Kallus would have worn his ISB uniform to the ceremony. In the Rebellion, he’d have worn whatever clothes fit and were clean, as many a quick wartime wedding party had dressed. But now, amongst the very same lasat he once persecuted and warred against, they’d given him their traditional clothes and armor.

Kallus wasn’t sure what Zeb had done to get the armor, but he appreciated it. He and Zeb would be joined as warriors, as equals in the eyes of Lasan. It didn’t matter that Kallus personally thought Zeb was his superior in many ways, _Zeb_ had wanted him dressed like an honorable warrior.

He looked at himself in the mirror, tugging on the sleeveless shirt that fit so tightly. It was a deep purple, lined at the seams with strips of golden yellow. Equally tight matching pants only went halfway down his calves and he stood barefoot. His feet were a little cold, but it was better than wearing the same worn-out boots that he’d had since Yavin IV.

Vashtyr and Tarkorra helped him secure the green-and-gold armor to his shirt, securing the chest piece and handing him the vambraces to put on his forearms, slightly-too-large guards to slip over his palms. The last component was the belt, settling heavily at his hips. 

Somehow, Kallus knew he was wearing a juvenile’s clothing and armor, but it didn’t bother him. He was glad it fit as well as it did, that he could present himself appropriately at Zeb’s side.

“Are you ready?” Vashtyr asked. “It’s time.”

“I’m ready,” Kallus said with more certainty than he felt.

His nerves weren’t from the idea of marrying Zeb; far from it. They came from worrying that he wouldn’t remember the words to the vows or that he’d stumble and embarrass Zeb.

Tarkorra gestured to the door and Kallus stepped outside.

If he’d expected some sort of special decoration for the mating ceremony, he was disappointed. Still, the usual lanterns that lit the meeting place were flickering in the sunset light, setting a pretty scene by themselves.

Kallus searched the platform for Zeb, but didn’t see him. He followed Vashtyr to the center of the meeting place, where Kafzyr stood. His soon-to-be brother-in-law gave him a very begrudging nod. Kallus breathed in relief; he’d been afraid Kafzyr would make a scene about the armor.

The sound of someone running up the stairs from the forest floor caught his ear and Kallus turned just in time to see Zeb appear, followed by Hera and Jacen. 

If the forest and lights were beautiful, Zeb was entrancing. Kallus had never seen Zeb’s armor as it was meant to be worn: shining, over a fine tunic and pants. He looked every inch an Honor Guard Captain, something the people of Velencia had forgotten if Tarkorra’s gasp was any clue.

Kallus and Zeb locked eyes as Zeb walked up to the rest of the party.

“Didn’t leave you waitin’, did I?” Zeb asked.

“No. You made quite the entrance,” Kallus whispered back. “That armor suits you, _Captain_ Orrelios.”

Zeb huffed. “Just wish I’d seen you come in. You look amazin’, Alexsandr Kallus.”

Kafzyr cleared his throat and both of them looked forward again.

Kallus could barely keep up with the Lasana ceremony, only able to pick out words here and there. He didn’t really need to know the exact wording, not yet. He’d been told the gist of it all by Vashtyr, with particular attention to the vows. When Tarkorra and Vashtyr suddenly flung water in his face, he was caught off-guard even though he’d known it was coming at some point.

 _“Water to symbolize washing yourself of your past, facing your mate clean and pure,_ ” Vashtyr had said. _“Flowers to show the blessings of your family and friends._ ”

Kallus ducked down a bit so Tarkorra could put a ring of red flowers on his head. He looked just in time to see Hera placing a similar one on Zeb. She gave him a wink and he smiled back.

“Vow time,” whispered Zeb and they faced each other, holding hands. Chaftin and Tarkorra tied ribbons around their joined hands as they spoke together, slowly so Kallus could self-consciously stumble over the words.

“ _Kerra hashaln Ashlahn, nis tallan bafliri peklin, seor tinsal azarrika merrini morrahn. An san ni Tinsana, armorra ashkerra. La san an s'ahn gal an san nivsahn.”_

 _“I_ _n the sight of the Ashla, our blood flows mingled forever, bound throughout the strands of time_. _You are my Bond-mate, my eternal beloved. I am yours and you are mine_ ,” Kallus thought in his head. That, at least, was the translation Vashtyr had given him.

They were good vows, at least as far as Kallus was any judge. The last sentence was the most important to him, personally: Zeb was his and he was Zeb’s.

He was Zeb’s no matter what, but it was nice to have it formalized. Now, Velencia couldn’t run him out without running Zeb out too. He had some standing in the community, particularly if he won his fight against Chaftin the next day.

Chaftin herself looked pleased, standing as part of Zeb’s family and friends. She gave Kallus a nod when she saw him glancing her way. He wondered if she actually approved of him or if she only acted kind for Zeb’s sake.

Not that it mattered anymore.

“That’s it,” Zeb whispered, when Kafzyr stopped talking. “We’re bondmates.”

“What do we do now?” Kallus asked, keenly aware of the eyes on him.

“We go eat our first meal as a new family.” Zeb gave him a soppy grin. “That’s what seals it.”

As their hands were untied, Kallus looked out into the meeting place, just now registering that food sat there, waiting.

Walking up, he saw it was also the same as what Vashtyr had fed them that first night and what he’d come to think of as the basic Lasana meal: roast meat and vegetables paired with a simple grain bread.

“Sorry there’s not more,” Zeb said as they were led to the table. “Dunno if it’s ‘cause Kafzyr’s not happy or ‘cause it’s so quick.”

“It’s fine,” Kallus said. “I don’t feel slighted.”

They were served heaping portions on one plate and Kallus had the brief worry that they would be expected to eat the whole meal by themselves.

“Nah,” said Zeb when he voiced his fears. “They’re just waitin’ for us to take our first bites, then everyone gets food.”

That’s right. He’d been told that. Nerves were making him forget.

That was odd. He’d never been bothered by nerves before, but getting this mating ceremony right seemed to be more important than almost anything he’d done before. “Are we supposed to feed each other or anything?” Kallus asked.

Zeb laughed. “Nah. Just eat. Act like you like it.”

Kallus didn’t have to act. He wasn’t sure who’d cooked the meal as both Vashtyr and Tarkorra had been with him all afternoon, but it was delicious.

As soon as they both ate a little of everything, plates of food were passed down the line until everyone had something to eat. Not just something; plenty. Even Jacen had a plate so full the four-year-old could never hope to eat it all.

“So how different was that from a human ceremony?” Zeb asked.

“I never went to many,” Kallus said, truthfully. They weren’t public affairs when he was a child and very few ISB agents got married. He’d been to the weddings of a few military officers – stuffy, ceremonial things – and Rebellion members – quick and to the point – but that was about it. Hardly enough to make a sweeping judgment, except on one point. “You remember the ones in the Rebellion? Humans tend to end their ceremonies with a kiss.”

“Ah.” Zeb grinned wickedly. “We’ll do that later.”

Kallus fought a blush, but he was as eager as Zeb was to get to that point.

* * *

Zeb tugged Kallus behind him as they made their way to the house; he supposed it was to be their _home_ , now.

The whole celebration had been short by lasat standards, with no music and no dancing and no gifts beyond the crowns and ribbons used in the ceremony. Zeb thought perhaps he ought to feel slighted, but he didn’t know how much of that was because of their peculiar circumstances or a forced change after the Imperial invasion. He could easily imagine music playing in the forest attracting the attention of the Ithdasira Imperials.

They’d talked with everyone, but especially Hera, who promised to stay a little while longer with Jacen so that Zeb and Kallus actually got to enjoy their company.

Up in the trees, their house was dark, lit only by the tendrils of moonlight making it through the trees and into their windows. That was okay, though. It was plenty of light for Zeb.

Not so much for Kallus, who stumbled over a chair on the way back to the bedroom.

Zeb caught him easily, helping him stand once more. “Careful there.”

“Just get me to the bedroom,” Kallus said, durasteel in his voice.

Eyes wide at Kallus’s intensity, Zeb led the way, stopping just inside the door. “C’mere,” he said. “Let’s get that kiss, make it official for you.”

Kallus met him with a kiss as Zeb had asked, their matching armor pressing against each other, but he also snaked his hands around Zeb, fiddling with the clasps of Zeb’s chest piece.

“Hey,” Zeb said. “Slow down there.”

“We can take it slow,” Kallus said. “But I still want you out of those clothes.”

“Let’s save that for tomorrow,” Zeb suggested.

Kallus tensed. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No! Don’t think that,” Zeb said quickly. “I just want you to be as ready as possible for the fight tomorrow. Don’t wanna keep you up longer than I should.”

“Zeb,” Kallus said, lowering his voice. “If we don’t consummate this marriage _now_ , I might kill you out of sheer frustration.”

Zeb ran his claws through Kallus’s hair, smiling. “Impatient?”

“I’ve wanted you since Yavin and I finally have you,” Kallus said. “You’re not taking this from me. I will fight just _fine_ tomorrow.”

Zeb kissed Kallus’s forehead. “Okay,” he said indulgently. They’d done some _activities_ since arriving on Lasan, but hadn’t properly made love because of Kal’s injuries and truth be told, he wanted it as bad as Kallus did. Endor and the last few days on Lira San seemed so long ago. “But you have to let me take care of _you_ , Kal.”

“I think I could let you do that,” Kallus said, getting back to the business of stripping Zeb’s armor.

And Kallus did. From letting Zeb undress him to letting Zeb take control when they did fall into the bed pit, he was insistent on what he wanted but pliant when Zeb instructed him to do something.

Such as letting Zeb place a claiming mark where his neck met his shoulders. Such as giving Zeb a matching one.

They lay there after, Zeb half atop Kallus, one hand stretched down, cupping the human’s ass.

“So what was that last bit of the ceremony?” Kallus asked, softly circling his fingers through the fur on Zeb’s back. “After the vows.”

“Hm?” Zeb asked groggily. “Oh, uh. Basically an admonition to be faithful to each other so the Ashla doesn’t turn its back on us.”

“So pretty close to what I thought,” Kallus said, sounding amused.

That got Zeb’s attention. “What did you think it was?”

Kallus laughed a little. “I assumed Kafzyr was threatening to kill me if I broke your heart.” He moved his hand and massaged his shoulder for a moment. “I’m bleeding on the bedsheets. So are you,” he pointed out.

“So? A little blood on the sheets is expected after a mating ceremony,” Zeb said. “We’ll wash them after you win your fight.”

Kallus sighed. “You think I will?” he asked. “Honestly?”

 _You have to._ “I do,” Zeb said. “But if it’s a case of winning or you busting a lung again, I’d rather go back to Lira San. Or back to the New Republic.”

Zeb felt Kallus smile as he sought out another kiss. “If you think I can win, then I will.”

“Only if you get sleep,” Zeb said. “ _Now_.”

“Very well,” Kallus said, smile growing. “Husband.”

Zeb returned the smile. “ _Ni Tinsana_.”

* * *

Tarkorra showed up at their house early the next morning, claiming she was there to bandage their mating marks, but Zeb thought she really wanted to make sure Kallus hadn’t injured himself again.

Thankfully, Kallus was doing well, breathing deeply, his chest clear when she listened to it. She didn’t seem too enthused to pronounce him able to fight, but she did so anyway.

“Mid-morning at the training grounds,” she said. “That’s what Kafzyr said.”

Seated on the couch, Zeb grumbled. “That doesn’t leave long for warming up.”

Tarkorra looked sad. “I think that was the point.”

Kallus sighed, placing a hand on Zeb’s knee. “It’ll be fine. If I’m not warming up, neither is Chaftin. And I don’t think she’s the type to use an unfair advantage.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Zeb said. “You don’t become Honor Guard for no reason.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Kallus assured him. “I’m approaching this with every bit of intention as our fights before Bahryn. Only I don’t aim to kill, just disable.”

Zeb hugged Kallus to his side briefly, softly bumping their heads together. “Whatever happens, it’s okay,” he said. “Unless you get hurt. If it gets too much, stop.”

“It will be _fine_ , Zeb,” Kallus assured him. He turned back to Tarkorra. “Thank you. Will we see you there?”

Tarkorra gave an unhappy grin. “Someone has to be there to bandage both of you up after.” She stood. “I’ll let you get ready. Good luck.”

Kallus stayed where he was, tucked under Zeb’s arm, as Tarkorra left. “We need to talk, Zeb.”

Zeb frowned. “You’re not planning anything stupid, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Because you did some pretty stupid things as a Rebel. Don’t think you need any fancy tricks to win.”

“ _Zeb_.” Kallus stared at him, frustrated.

Zeb looked back, innocently. “What?”

“The other day, before the vigil, you mentioned wanting kits.”

Groaning, Zeb rubbed his forehead. “Kal, this isn’t the time to talk about that, not when you’re about to fight–”

“We should have talked about it yesterday but we didn’t get the chance, so we should discuss it now,” Kallus said calmly. “You want kits, you said. Is that right?”

“Well,” Zeb hemmed and hawed. “Yeah. Guess I do. But it’s not gonna kill me if you don’t.”

“Talk me into it,” Kallus instructed.

Zeb made a face. “I don’t want to argue.”

“I didn’t say argue with me,” Kallus said. “I said _talk me into it_. Convince me that you and I could be proper parents for a kit. That I’m not too cruel of a person to be a good father. That it wouldn’t be some gross thing for _me_ to be a father to a lasat kit, a human baby, or any other species of child, after all I did.”

Caught by surprise, Zeb blinked. He hadn’t thought about _convincing_ Kallus to want a kit; he thought either he’d want some or he wouldn’t and that would be that. “Well, c’mon. We did pretty good helping out with Jacen.”

“ _You_ did that,” Kallus pointed out. “I was off on the _Glimmer_ most of the time.”

“But Jacen likes you anyway,” Zeb said. “And you dealt with Zaarin for years.”

Kallus laughed at the joke, thankfully, but sobered quickly. “I have no real experience with children, Zeb.”

“So? People who have no experience with children have them all the time and raise them well,” Zeb said. “You think my parents had experience before Kafzyr? Or your parents before your sister?”

Kallus’s expression turned dark. “My parents are hardly an argument for good parenting. My father might have been if he’d been home more, but…”

Zeb backpedaled. “Okay, so not your parents. But it’s already in your nature to watch out for people and isn’t that what parents do?”

“It’s not in my ‘nature’, Zeb.”

“Right,” Zeb scoffed. “You take people under your wing all the time. Me, the _Glimmer_ crew, even those MSE droids that followed you everywhere.”

Kallus shook his head. “That’s hardly the same thing. Anyway, is the galaxy – and our lives – calm enough to raise a child?”

Zeb laughed. “Kal, you know how this works, right? We’d adopt, so the kits we take in are already living in the galaxy as it is. We’d just give ‘em a safe home.”

Kallus looked away. “With me is not necessarily safe. _Think_ , Zeb. Think of all the things I’ve done. I don’t make good decisions on my own.”

“You won’t be on your own,” Zeb said, picking up Kallus’s hands. “That’s the point. We’d do it together.”

“I’m the last person who should be allowed near a lasat kit,” Kallus whispered, staring at their hands. “After all I did here.”

“You don’t think helping a lasat kit would be making up for it, in a way?” Zeb asked. “You’ve spent the last six years making the galaxy safe for us again, wouldn’t that be helping, too?”

Kallus didn’t say anything.

Zeb sighed. “It doesn’t have to be a lasat kit. There are plenty of human kits out there that need families. Or rodians. Or twi’leks. Just not ithorian, okay?”

That pulled another laugh from Kallus, no doubt remembering Zeb’s story of the Force-sensitive ithorian baby on Takobo. 

Zeb pressed forward. “I think you’ve got the instincts and you aren’t giving yourself enough credit.”

“I would disagree.”

“I trust you with my life, Kal. Hera trusts you with Jacen. Why won’t you trust yourself?” Zeb tucked some messy hair behind Kallus’s ear. “Just think about it, will you? _After_ your fight.”

Zeb needed to think, too. Kallus didn’t look convinced, but somehow, Zeb knew he _wanted_ to be convinced. He just hadn’t heard the right words yet. 

Footfalls outside their door caught Zeb’s attention, making him smile. They were the footsteps of two people unaccustomed to lasat stairs, including one very small person.

“What?” Kallus asked.

“Hera and Jacen.” Zeb gave Kallus’s hands a quick kiss before setting them down. He stood, ready to greet their guests.

Hera met Zeb with a hug from one side while Jacen jumped at his other. Zeb deftly caught the four-year-old, who held onto his uncle by grabbing fur painfully. That was nothing new, however, so Zeb did his best to ignore it. Someday the kit would be big enough to hold on and balance himself better.

Zeb shot Kallus a significant look – _here, a kit to practice on_ – and offered Jacen to him, but Kallus hung back, still looking a little glum.

“So what is this fight?” Hera said. “I got a little of it last night, but not the full story.”

“It’s an honor fight,” Zeb said, letting some grumpiness bleed through. “Kal’s gonna earn the right to carry a bo-rifle.”

“Maybe,” Kallus corrected. “It’s more Kafzyr’s way of seeing if I’m honorable enough to stay.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just recovered from a major injury.”

“He did,” Zeb said, dipping Jacen so the boy was almost upside down.

“And you passed whatever the vigil test was.”

“I did,” Kallus said. “Apparently the Ashla wants me here.”

“So why is Kafzyr still looking for a reason to kick you out? Do Jacen and I need to worry about being here?”

“No,” Zeb said firmly. “You’re guests, temporary visitors. You’re not tryin’ to live here.”

“And you don’t have a history of killing lasat,” Kallus added darkly. “It’s no real wonder why Kafzyr doesn’t want me around.”

Hera frowned. “Is this all because he disapproves of you being Zeb’s mate?”

“I think he disapproves of my continued existence,” Kallus said.

Stricken at the thought, Zeb stopped swinging Jacen around. “He doesn’t have a choice now. The village elders know the Ashla led Kal here. He’s my mate now. And after the fight today, he’ll have to let him carry a bo-rifle. Kal belongs here just as much as I do.”

“We’ll see,” Kallus said. He glanced out the window. “We don’t have much time, not if I want to try and get _some_ warm-up in.”

“Wait. D’you wanna wear your armor from yesterday?” Zeb asked. “Chaftin isn’t going to pull any blows.”

Kallus shook his head. “I’m not used to fighting in it. It’ll just throw me off.”

Zeb nodded. He understood that. He’d had to ask, though; anything that might protect Kallus.

Together, the four walked down the staircases to the forest floor, Kallus gripping the practice bo-rifle, Zeb carrying the borrowed armor to return.

If Zeb noticed Kallus watching Hera and Jacen a little more carefully than normal, well, he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, at least.

Most, if not all, of Velencia joined them on their walk to the training grounds. Zeb blatantly took Kallus’s hand, reiterating the statement he’d made with the mating ceremony the night before.

They arrived before Chaftin and Kafzyr, though Vashtyr and Avi were already there. Avi eyed Zeb warily, no doubt wondering what his uncle was doing with Jacen. Zeb motioned him over.

While Avi checked with his mother, Zeb gave Kallus a kiss on the forehead. “ _Ashla silir an. Ashla rever an_ ,” he recited.

A crease appeared between Kallus’s brows as he worked to translate Zeb’s words. “Ashla something you…?”

“Ashla save you. Ashla hold you,” Zeb explained. “Part of an old blessing. Figured it’d be appropriate for you, Warrior.”

Kallus grabbed Zeb’s jaw and rubbed their cheeks together. “Hopefully the Ashla _will_ be with me.” He lingered for a moment and then set off to the center of the training grounds with his staff.

“ _Djadan_ Garazeb.” Avi tugged on Zeb’s arm. “ _Djadan_ , who’re they?”

Zeb knelt and put a hand on Avi’s back, guiding him around so he could see Jacen. “This is Hera Syndulla and her son Jacen. Hera’s a general for the New Republic and one of my best friends. Jacen’s four.”

“What’s _dya_ – _dja_ –?” Jacen asked.

“Uncle,” Zeb answered. “I’m Avi’s uncle like I’m your uncle, _aki’a_ , except that Avi’s father is my brother.”

Avi looked a little jealous that Zeb had a nickname for Jacen but not for him. He looked up at Zeb defiantly. “ _Adan_ says there’s no way Kal can win this.”

“Hey,” Zeb said, “Be respectful. Kal’s your _djadan_ now, too. You should call him that.”

Jacen stuck two fingers in his mouth, sucking on them. Avi watched him with some confusion. Zeb shrugged at Avi; he didn’t know why Jacen did it, either, except to know it was a common thing for smaller human and near-human kits. A furless thing, maybe.

“You should take Jacen to play,” Zeb suggested to Avi, who shook his head.

“No, I wanna see the fight!” Avi protested. “ _Adan_ said I should.”

Zeb sighed. “If your _adan_ said so, then you’d better watch.” He glanced at Jacen. “You wanna sit on my shoulders, kiddo?”

Jacen nodded and Zeb picked him up, settling the kit on his shoulders so he could see. Hera watched this with some amusement.

“You’re good with him, you know,” she said.

“Been told that before,” Zeb said. “Guess that makes it true.”

He knew the next logical step in the conversation – _are you and Kal going to have kits?_ – but Hera didn’t get a chance to ask. Chaftin arrived, followed by Kafzyr and a couple of the elders.

Chaftin stepped into the training circle, pulling her bo-rifle and igniting it. The same model as Zeb’s, it crackled with purple lightning.

Both Chaftin and Kallus looked at Kafzyr. Zeb thought his brother might make some sort of announcement, tell what the stakes of the fight were, but he didn’t.

Probably everyone in the village already knew.

When Kafzyr gave her the nod, Chaftin turned to Kallus. “This goes until one of us has to quit. No set number of hits.”

Kallus nodded and Zeb gulped. Those rules – turning this into an stamina match – seemed to favor Chaftin.

Hera put a hand on Zeb’s back. “Humans are built for endurance, too,” she said. “He can do it.”

Zeb could only hope.

There was a heavy silence as Kallus and Chaftin took up position opposite each other. Zeb could see Kallus breathing deeply, eyes never wavering from Chaftin’s face.

And then it began.

It took only a few seconds for Zeb to see that Chaftin had improved from the last time he saw her fight; no wonder, as it’d been nearly twenty years. Her strikes were brutal, putting her full strength into each blow. Kallus ducked and dodged more than he attacked.

That could work, though. If Chaftin tired herself out and Kallus outlasted her…

It was possible.

Zeb held his breath, forcing himself not to squeeze Jacen’s legs too tightly. He wondered if this was what it was like watching _him_ spar with Kallus.

Kallus attempted a low sweep, leaving his head briefly unprotected.

Chaftin took advantage of the lapse, tapping Kallus on the shoulder with her bo-rifle.

Zeb drew in a sharp breath. First point went to Chaftin. Could Kallus keep up, after all?

* * *

It was a dance, Kallus thought. Nothing but a dance.

Chaftin hadn’t gone light on him, hitting him securely in _exactly_ the spot Zeb had marked him the night before, but she _had_ used the staff of her bo-rifle, not the sparkling purple electrical ends. She was honorable, just like Zeb had promised.

Kallus’s shoulder ached as the mating bite opened back up. He was glad for Tarkorra’s bandaging; maybe it would keep the bleeding from showing.

Then again, that didn’t make much difference when he was surrounded by lasat who could smell his blood. Everyone but Hera and Jacen probably already knew he’d been wounded.

But it was _still_ a dance, even if he was bleeding. He just had to anticipate the steps and be somewhere else when Chaftin struck.

He learned from that first hit, using deception and distraction to help him, just as he did when he fought Zeb. Kallus didn’t stay in one place for more than a moment, constantly on the move so that Chaftin couldn’t predict his movements.

Spinning, he struck her in the side with his staff. Point to him.

She took a step back, nodded in recognition of his hit, and reset her stance.

Kallus tossed hair from his face; he’d drawn it back, but it was coming loose already. He took the second’s break to breathe deeply and recenter himself, drawing on the feeling from the vigil.

 _If the Ashla guided me then, let it guide me now_.

He went on the offensive, using his slimmer profile and speed to his advantage. The staff spun in his hands, forming a moving shield in front of him, leaping to the side when Chaftin tried to disrupt his movements. He feinted, she dodged, he attacked, she blocked, he twirled and came in low, she jumped.

On and on it went. Kallus could tell both of them were starting to flag a little. He wasn’t sure exactly how long the fight had been going on, but it was long enough that his muscles were starting to scream at him.

He ignored them.

A dash forward and his staff hit Chaftin’s leg with a solid _thump_. Another point to him.

Swallowing as much air as he could, he took a step back and waited for Chaftin to attack.

Nine years ago, when he first met Zeb, he’d been able to do flips, launch himself to his feet from a position on his back, and any other number of flashy tricks. Not so much anymore. Thirty-nine hurt a lot worse than thirty.

That didn’t stop him from trying, however. He’d done well so far, but this match wasn’t the best two out of three. It was until one side was exhausted and he knew Chaftin had been training continually while he sat on a ship and lived a soft life with Zeb. Even his time spent in Rebel gyms didn’t equal time spent actually fighting and training.

Unless Kallus pulled out _some_ special trick, he was going to lose.

Maybe he could at least lose with dignity.

He dodged a blow from Chaftin’s bo-rifle only to run straight into her hand. Claws dug into the skin of his hip briefly, Chaftin pulling back as soon as the hit had been made.

Kallus stumbled a few steps to the right, favoring that leg and the brand-new wounds on his hip. His chances of a win were looking slimmer.

Pushing down the pain, he rushed Chaftin, hoping to take her by surprise, hoping to get some sort of advantage.

New pain appeared, a sharp stabbing in his chest and suddenly breathing became harder.

 _NO!_ he yelled in his mind. His _kriffing_ lung could _not_ have collapsed again, not during the fight.

Except it had. He reeled, staggering back a few steps, leaning on his staff for a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chaftin pause.

The fighting instinct in Kallus took over. Barely keeping his feet, he attacked again, catching Chaftin by surprise with one last effort.

His staff hit her in the chest, what would have been a debilitating blow had he been wielding a true bo-rifle. The image of Zeb falling to his knees flashed in Kallus’s brain, that first horrible fight when he’d taunted and lied and almost killed the man who would save him.

Kallus fell, landing on his hands and knees, gasping for air, staff clattering to the ground next to him. He waited for Chaftin to recover and finish him off.

She never did.

A furred hand appeared in front of him. “Come on,” she said. “Stand.”

Not caring if it was a trick, though he didn’t really think it would be, he took her hand and let her help him up.

“I cede the match,” she said loudly. Kallus noticed she was breathing heavily too, her hand shaking from exertion. They’d been about equally matched before his lung collapsed, then.

It might really have been anyone’s game.

“You’ve won,” Kafzyr said. “You can’t cede.”

“I can,” Chaftin said. “And I have. Kal is my equal on the bo-rifle and if he had not been previously injured – by _you_ , Kafzyr – he would have honestly bested me. So I cede in his favor, the only honorable end to this fight.”

Clutching at his chest, Kallus searched the crowd while Chaftin spoke, looking for that one face–

–there. Hera grabbed Jacen from Zeb’s shoulders and pushed him forward. Zeb didn’t need any more encouragement and ran forward, taking Kallus’s weight off of Chaftin and onto him.

“Idiot,” Zeb hissed. “I told you not to push yourself.”

“Happened quickly,” Kallus argued. “Didn’t know until too late.”

Tarkorra entered the ring, approaching Chaftin first. “Do you need any help?” she asked the Honor Guard Captain.

Chaftin shook her head and gestured to Kallus.

Tarkorra touched Kallus’s chest, surely feeling the way it pulled when he tried to suck in air. “My medstation,” she said. “We’re gonna have to open your chest back up.”

“Wonderful,” Kallus said.

Zeb picked Kallus up, letting him rest his head against a strong shoulder. “Kafzyr, Kal won his fight. If Chaftin agrees, he’s carrying a bo-rifle again. He’s earned the right _again_.”

“He’s won that honor,” Chaftin said.

Kafzyr scowled but there wasn’t anything he could do, Kallus didn’t think. Chaftin controlled bo-rifles. “Fine. Get him help and if he survives, then he can carry a weapon.”

Zeb turned his head just enough that his lips brushed across Kallus’s sweaty forehead. “I gotcha, love,” he said. “You’re okay now.”

Kallus nodded. “Get it over with,” he gasped.

Tarkorra ran ahead of them while Zeb strode purposefully after her. Behind them, Kallus caught glimpses of Hera, Jacen, Avi, Vashtyr, and Kafzyr following.

Huh. Kafzyr was a surprise. Kallus had thought the _Arkesana_ didn’t care if he lived or died.

When Zeb carried Kallus into Tarkorra’s office, the medic was mixing a drink. “Here,” she said. “This’ll take care of the pain. Drink it all.”

Kallus took the cup from her, drinking as deeply as he could manage; he was thirsty, but this drink was nasty and full of particles. He trusted Tarkorra, though, even when a prickly feeling started in his fingers and toes and–

–His eyes were closed. They needed to be open, it felt like, but opening them was a struggle. He was nothing if not a fighter, though, and forced his eyes open.

Kallus’s vision swam briefly before it resolved on Tarkorra bending over him. She touched his chest and he realized he was shirtless and aching: both his mating bite and his chest, but it was a duller ache than before. 

“Welcome back,” she said gently, before looking off into the room. “Zeb?”

Flopping his head to the side, Kallus watched Zeb approach, relief evident on his face. “Hey, love, you’re okay now,” he said, one hand cupping Kallus’s face.

Kallus nuzzled into Zeb’s palm. “What happened to ‘this’ll take care of the pain’?” he croaked, throat dry.

Tarkorra handed Zeb another cup to hold while Kallus drank; water this time. “Well, I knew you wouldn’t feel the pain if you were unconscious.” 

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I fussed at her already,” he said.

Looking around, Kallus saw that the others who’d followed from the fight were still there, slowly creeping up to see that he was all right.

Kallus tried to smile at Hera and Jacen, who buried his face in his mother’s side. 

Avi leaned over the table, reaching out almost far enough to touch Kallus’s reopened wound. Tarkorra swatted his hand away. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

Kallus nodded. “A little. But not bad.”

“You’re going to have to take it easy again,” Tarkorra said. She looked at Kafzyr. “No fighting, no running, no exerting himself too much for six weeks now. It’ll take longer to heal if he doesn’t rest.”

Kafzyr nodded, as did Zeb.

Zeb turned on his brother. “Well? Are you satisfied? He survived, no thanks to you demandin’ that he fight.”

“It’s more than obvious that the Ashla named him the Warrior of prophecy,” Kafzyr said, not sounding terribly happy about the fact. “I’ll challenge his presence no more.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Zeb said. Ignoring everyone else around them, he bent and caught Kallus in a kiss.

Kallus kissed back, wrapping his bare arms around Zeb’s neck, making sure to bump the mark he’d left on Zeb’s shoulder. “Take me home,” he whispered against Zeb’s lips. “I’m tired and I don’t want to let go of you.”

Zeb smiled. “I think I can do that.”

And he did.


	13. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana:  
> Djadan – uncle  
> Djedin – nephew  
> Ollirand Kasmera – Glimmer of Hope  
> Amanketh – matriarch  
> Arkesana – religious leader

Glancing up from where he was plating some breakfast for them both, Zeb watched Kallus slide into his seat at the table. The human was moving slowly, stiffly, and seemed to be in some pain.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m well enough,” Kallus said. “But I pushed myself hard yesterday. Between the new hole in my chest and the way my muscles are aching, I don’t know how much I can do today.”

Zeb’s eyes widened in surprise. “Didn’t think you’d actually ‘fess up to that,” he said.

The edges of Kallus’s mouth twitched, a very slight smile. “Thought that was the sort of thing you’re supposed to tell your husband.”

“Well, yeah,” Zeb said. “But you’re also supposed to tell friends and you aren’t so good at that.”

Kallus laughed softly. “Fair enough.” He ducked his head in appreciation when Zeb handed him a plate. “Thank you, Zeb.”

Zeb smiled at his mate, sitting down opposite him with his own food. 

Picking up a chunk of bread, Kallus carefully tore it into bite-sized pieces to nibble on. “Tell me about the bracelets.”

Zeb frowned. “The bracel– oh. To show we’re mated?” 

“Yes, those bracelets.” Kallus peeled off the bandage at the crook of his neck, revealing the healing bite mark Zeb had left the other night. It was scabbed over and swollen-looking, but not red with infection. “I’d rather not rely on showing this off to get other lasat to believe we’re actually married.”

“We’ll get some leather today and I’ll show you,” Zeb promised. He touched his matching bite mark gingerly. It was healing slowly, as it was supposed to so that it scarred over, and it ached anytime he moved his head. Zeb realized two things: one, he was spoiled by the healing and pain relief properties of bacta and two, Kallus was dealing with the same sort of slow healing not only on his mark but in his chest for the second time in a week and a half. And doing so with minimal complaint.

Zeb knew he’d mated a strong man, but the reminder radiated warmth throughout his chest.

“And there was that brush – broom? – at your brother’s house. Over the door, he said it came from your parents’?” Kallus took a bite of meat, watching Zeb closely. “Is that something we’re supposed to have, too?”

Once again surprised and a little impressed at Kallus’s memory for detail, Zeb nodded. “It’s not very important, just a little house blessin’, but it’s a family heirloom thing. Since Kafzyr got our parents’, we’d make our own to give to our oldest when they married,” he explained. “One of us is s’posed to collect the sticks – it’s a particular plant that smells good – and th’ other would make the ribbon. But it’s okay if we don’t. Not like either of us can make ribbon.”

Kallus nodded slowly and Zeb got the impression he was thinking. “If you’re certain,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to be able to say we’re doing something wrong.”

“Stop worryin’,” Zeb said. “Kafzyr’s agreed you belong here. The others’ll follow his lead.”

“I hope so.” Kallus stretched his arms out, wincing as the movement tugged at his chest. “So how long are Hera and Jacen staying?”

Zeb grinned. “A little longer yet. She’s gonna help me try to talk Kafzyr into acceptin’ New Republic help.”

Kallus hummed approvingly. “If anyone can break through to him, it’ll be her.”

“Hey,” Zeb protested, still grinning. “You said I could out-stubborn him.”

“And you can,” Kallus said calmly, though Zeb saw the twinkle in his eyes. “But be fair. Hera says jump and you jump. Kafzyr will do the same.”

Zeb laughed. He couldn’t really argue Kallus’s point.

They sat there in a pleasant quiet for a few minutes, both men eating. Zeb couldn’t help but be amazed at how comfortable things seemed.

For the first time in their lives, there wasn’t anxiety or conflict or worry underlying the other’s presence. No Imperial agent vs Rebel soldier, no pining after what they couldn’t have, and no fretting over their standing on Lasan, even. Just Zeb and Kal, bondmates, spending a peaceful morning together.

Zeb could get used to that.

After they finished eating, Kallus disappeared to go dress for the day while Zeb cleaned up the dishes. When his comm beeped, he wasn’t surprised to find it was Hera.

He shook the water off his hands and greeted her happily. “Hey! How’s the mornin’ look?”

“You sound like you’re in a good mood,” Hera said. Zeb could hear her smiling as well.

“S’pose I am,” he agreed. “Are we talking to Kafzyr today?”

“We might as well,” she said. “What should I do with Jacen?”

Zeb considered for a moment. “Let him play with the other kits. There’s always a coupl’a parents around to watch.”

“Probably good for him to play with others. Okay, we’re headed your way.”

“See ya,” Zeb said, looking up to see Kallus emerging from the bedroom. He smiled at the sight of his mate.

Kallus leaned against the back of a chair and returned the smile. “Hera on her way?”

“Yeah,” Zeb answered. “Let’s go get that leather and wait for her on the main platform.”

* * *

His chest ached. Every breath he drew hurt. Walking up and down the stairs of Velencia was a little taste of hell.

He wasn’t going to say anything about it, however. No need to worry Zeb about him.

Kallus followed his husband through Velencia’s small market to a stall that sold varied and sundry items rather than any dedicated merchandise. There, Zeb picked out two wide straps of leather, measured for their wrists, and had the merchant cut the middles into smaller strips and add fasteners to the ends.

Kallus looked at the strap Zeb gave him, at the way both ends were still whole, and wondered how he would be able to braid such a thing.

It turned out to be simpler than Kallus had imagined. Zeb showed him the trick, braiding his own strap easily and well; the leather lay attractively flat when Zeb was through.

“How many times have you done that?” Kallus asked.

Zeb grinned, obviously a little proud of his work. “Not since I was a kit,” he said. “We all learned then.”

Kallus focused on braiding his own, looping the strap through itself. It took him a few tries to get the strap to look as polished as Zeb’s own. It wasn’t until Zeb laughed that he realized he’d been concentrating with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.

Shooting Zeb a look even as he felt himself flush in embarrassment, Kallus said, “I’m sorry. Crafts are not my strong suit.”

“I know that,” Zeb said. “I love that you’re still tryin’. Here, gimme your arm.”

Kallus held out his left hand. Zeb carefully fastened his braided strap around Kallus’s wrist, taking a moment to kiss his open palm. “There,” he murmured. “All official.”

“So this is it?” Kallus asked, motioning for Zeb to hold out his own hand. “Everyone here will recognize me as your mate?”

“As a mate to a lasat, yes,” Zeb said, watching as Kallus put on his bracelet.

That was acceptable, but… “Is there a way to personalize them?” Kallus asked. “So they’ll all know I’m _yours_?”

“Sure,” Zeb said. “We could get some of my hair in there. Or something else that smells like me.”

“I’d like that,” Kallus said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

Zeb leaned in and kissed Kallus’s forehead. “We’ll do that tonight, then.” He looked past Kallus. “But I think I’ve got to go talk to Kafzyr again.”

Kallus turned and smiled as Hera walked up, Jacen trailing along behind. “Good morning, Hera.”

“Good morning,” she said, already sounding ready to debate Kafzyr. “Can I leave Jacen with you?”

Kallus froze for a second, glad he wasn’t walking or he would have stumbled. “That’ll be fine,” he said.

“Good.” She knelt and warned Jacen to behave. The little boy nodded, looking up at Kallus and holding out his hand.

Gingerly taking the boy’s hand, Kallus nodded. “We’ll be all right, won’t we, Jacen?” he said, though he didn’t feel quite so confident.

Jacen answered by sticking his fingers in his mouth again. Zeb good-naturedly ruffled his bright green hair.

Kallus stood and watched Zeb and Hera head to Kafzyr’s house. Once they turned a corner, he looked down at Jacen. “Would you like to find the other children and play with them?”

Jacen nodded, popping his fingers out. “Yes, pl’s,” he said.

“Let’s go, then.” Kallus knew the young lasat typically played on the main platform, in an open area near the meeting place. He led the way and was quickly rewarded by the sound of kits playing some sort of ball game.

Most of the kits were older than Jacen, but Kallus hoped they’d accept him as a playmate.

He hadn’t counted on Jacen being too shy to go join them.

Kallus sighed as Jacen hid his face in his thigh. He supposed it made sense; the lasat kits were all bigger than Jacen, loud and boisterous. It would be intimidating for a young boy who was more used to being around adults than other children.

How should Kallus proceed? Should he force Jacen to go play? Should he try to entertain the boy himself?

Thankfully, Avi noticed them and came running up, getting Jacen’s rapt attention.

Avi slowed as he approached, looking at Kallus warily. “You’re my _djadan_ now, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Kallus said, considering for the first time that Kafzyr, Vashtyr, and Avi were _his_ family now too. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; with the exception of Vashtyr – the one non-blood relative of Zeb’s – they hadn’t been entirely friendly.

Of course, Avi hadn’t been _un_ friendly. He’d simply been echoing his father’s attitude toward Kallus.

Kallus sat down on a bench, pulling Jacen up next to him. 

Avi stood in front of them, almost eye level with Kallus, studying Jacen. “Is he _your_ _djedin_? Is that why he calls _Djadan_ Garazeb ‘uncle’?”

“No,” Kallus said. “Jacen’s parents were Garazeb’s family before he knew you were here. They were part of the Rebellion together and lived together on a ship called the _Ghost_.”

Avi frowned. “Is that your ship?”

Kallus shook his head and winced as Jacen started kicking his feet, little heels landing hard on Kallus’s shins. “No, mine’s the _Glimmer of Hope_. Two ‘G’s, but not the same.”

“That’s a silly name,” Avi snorted.

“Your _djadan_ helped me name it,” Kallus said, trying not to be offended. “ _Ollirand Kasmera_.”

Avi did not look impressed.

Jacen squirmed and whined a bit. “Wanna go!” he said.

“Can you take Jacen to play?” Kallus asked Avi. “He’s too shy to go on his own.”

“He’s too little,” Avi complained, then looked at the boy. “Do you speak Lasana?”

Jacen shook his head.

“No,” Kallus sighed. “Just Basic and Ryl for now.”

Avi shook his head. “He won’t be able to keep up,” he pronounced.

Well, Kallus couldn’t force Avi to take Jacen. Maybe he could still help Kallus, however. “Avirinkar–”

“You can call me Avi now,” the kit said. “Since you’re my _djadan_.”

Kallus smiled at him. “Avi, then. You know the broom above your door? Can you tell me what it’s made of?”

Avi looked like Kallus should have known the answer to that already. “Namona branches.” 

“Namona,” Kallus repeated, holding Jacen still as the boy squirmed some more. “Where do I find some?”

“You know you’re s’posed to know all that _before_ you mate,” Avi said.

 _Figures_. “I didn’t get the chance,” Kallus said. “So I’m trying to learn now.”

Avi sighed, put-upon. “There’s some in the forest. I can show you.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “You’re allowed in the forest?”

“When I’m with my _djadan_ , I am,” Avi said, hands on his hips. “D’you want me to show you or not?”

“How far away is it?” Kallus asked. If it wasn’t too far, he wouldn’t feel bad about taking Avi and Jacen on a little sojourn into the forest. If it wasn’t too far, he wouldn’t be too sore to make the hike. And if it wasn’t too far, maybe Tarkorra wouldn’t fuss at him if she found out.

Avi shrugged. “About ten minutes away?” he said, as if he were unsure.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes wasn’t bad. “All right,” Kallus said. “Show us.”

He held Jacen’s hand and followed Avi. On the forest floor, the Honor Guard gave them looks, but didn’t stop them. Kallus noted Chaftin wasn’t among them; maybe she was as worn out as Kallus was. He couldn’t blame her taking a day off; she’d earned it.

Avi set off heading southwest, away from Ithdasira, toward the clearing where he’d done his vigil. As they neared the stone circle, Avi veered off to the south. 

Whining a bit, Jacen looked up at Kallus with his arms raised.

“Sorry, Jacen,” Kallus said. “I can’t pick you up today.” Not while his chest still had an open wound, at least.

He checked his chrono. They’d been walking for twenty minutes, but they were going at Jacen’s pace, not the speed of an energetic lasat youth. He wondered if Avi would be willing to carry Jacen on his back when they headed back to Velencia.

“There!” Avi cried, pointing out a thick patch of undergrowth ahead. “There’s the namona.”

Kallus approached the brush and inspected it. The plant had a spicy-sweet fragrance and grew lots of straight, thin branches. “So I just collect this?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Avi said. “Lots of it.”

“Jacen, will you help me pick up sticks?” Kallus asked, hoping that helping would keep the boy from wandering off.

Jacen nodded and crawled under the plant, grabbing fallen branches.

Kallus was a little pickier, plucking green leaves off the straightest reddish branches, trying to get them all the same length.

At first, Avi stood and watched, but eventually he joined in as well. Kallus supposed he must be bored and attempting to hurry Kallus along. Any help was nice, however.

It took him a good half-hour, but Kallus eventually had a large handful of the sticks. He showed them to Avi, who nodded approvingly.

“Now _Djadan_ Garazeb has to tie them together,” Avi proclaimed. “I dunno with what, though. He can’t make a ribbon, can he?”

“No, he can’t,” Kallus said. “But I have an idea.” He held out his free hand for Jacen, who had an armful of his own sticks, and the three trekked slowly back to Velencia.

* * *

Zeb couldn’t believe what he was watching.

No, that was a lie. It was Hera Syndulla being Hera Syndulla; of _course_ she was going to get things done.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can get the New Republic to dedicate some construction droids and engineers to get your cities put back together,” Hera said. “It’s our job to help victims of the Empire.”

Kafzyr leaned forward in his chair. He’d quit arguing self-reliance and was looking forward instead. “And if the Empire tries to return?”

“Then we’ll come defend you,” she said. “If you’ll let me, I’ll order a wing of snubfighters to relocate here and patrol the space for you. The Empire’s too weak now to hit with any real force, but we don’t want you taking any hits at all.”

“Okay,” Kafzyr said. “I believe you.”

Zeb’s jaw almost dropped. Kafzyr was agreeing to the very things he’d refused from Zeb. 

It was all Hera’s touch.

“But I want to come with you,” Kafzyr added. “When you talk to the New Republic. We should be represented by someone who knows the situation here well.”

Hera nodded. “I agree. You should be the primary diplomat from Lasan. I can take you to Chandrila as soon as you’re ready, unless you’d prefer to fly with Zeb and Kallus on the _Glimmer_?”

Zeb almost protested – he didn’t want to play diplomat anymore, even helping his brother – but it made sense and Hera was giving him a look that brooked no arguments.

“Either way is fine with me,” Kafzyr said

Next to him, Vashtyr laughed softly. “Is she mated?” she whispered to Zeb. “Do I need to worry? Or does she give lessons?”

Zeb returned her smile. “That’s just Hera,” he said. “She’s an _amanketh_ even when she isn’t tryin’.”

“I can see why you followed her,” Vashtyr said. “She’s quite persuasive.”

“That’s for sure,” Zeb said. Hera might not have been _why_ he joined the Spectres, but she absolutely had been the glue holding the makeshift little family together.

Vashtyr looked at Kafzyr. “Avi and I will come, too,” she said.

Kafzyr didn’t look happy with that idea. “I need you here to help Chaftin lead.”

“No,” Vashtyr said. “Call back Mailira. She can be here in your stead.”

Mailira? Zeb hadn’t heard that name yet. He looked questioningly at Kafzyr, who sighed.

“She’s a young acolyte,” he said. “I’ve been training her to take over from me when she’s old enough.”

Zeb nodded slowly. It made sense; the _Arkesana_ s had always traditionally been led by a female, but it was still a little surprising that Kafzyr was actively working to give up his power. “And why haven’t we met her?”

“Because I sent her away.” Kafzyr shrugged. “She needed more than just my perspective, so she’s been visiting all the settlements, learning from the _Arkesana_ s there. I’ll send a rider to fetch her back.”

“You’re welcome to pick her up in the _Phantom_ ,” Hera offered. “Zeb or I can pilot it for you.”

Kafzyr shook his head. “A settlement sees a shuttle, they’ll think it’s Imperials. She’s less than a day’s ride away. It’s not worth the stress and trouble of using your ship.”

“Okay,” Hera said. “How quickly do you think we can leave, then?”

“Give me one day cycle,” Kafzyr said. “We can leave tomorrow after lunch.”

Hera glanced at Zeb, who nodded. “Sounds as good as anything,” he said.

By unspoken agreement, everyone stood and Hera said her goodbyes. Zeb started to follow her, but Kafzyr grabbed his arm. Zeb looked at his brother quizzically.

“Is Chandrila safe?” Kafzyr asked. “Should I leave my family home?”

Vashtyr crossed her arms but said nothing, watching Zeb instead.

“It’s about as safe as you’re gonna get,” Zeb said. “Civilized, lotsa different species in the capital. Pretty, too.”

“All right.” Kafzyr let go of Zeb’s arm, but only look partially satisfied.

Zeb realized that this would be Kafzyr’s first time off Lasan. No wonder he was nervous; he’d never had reason to travel before the Imperials attacked and no opportunity to after. _Zeb_ was the experienced one in this matter, the expert Kafzyr was forced to turn to.

“It’ll be fine,” Zeb said. “Hera’s the best pilot in the Fleet, though Kal ain’t bad either. You guys’ll be safe flying on either ship and Hera’ll get you in to talk to the top New Republic people.”

“We’ll be fine,” Vashtyr agreed. “It’ll be good for Avi, anyway. He’s only ever known Velencia; he needs to see there’s more to the galaxy.”

Kafzyr nodded once, accepting his mate’s pronouncement. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll fly with you.”

“I’ll tell Kal.” Zeb paused. “Pack for warm weather. I was on Chandrila not long before we got here and it was still summer.”

“I’m putting a lot of trust in your friend,” Kafzyr said. “I’m trusting her with my family.”

“Hera won’t let you down.” Zeb arched his brows. “No snide comments about trustin’ Kal?”

Frowning, Kafzyr said, “He’s family now, too.”

Zeb was shocked at Kafzyr for about three seconds, until he opened his mouth again.

“I can’t believe you brought an Imperial into our family, but he’s still family. And he does have honor,” Kafzyr sighed.

“ _Ex_ -Imperial,” Zeb said. “That ex- is the important bit.”

In a bit of a huff, Zeb left, heading to the central plaza, where he was sure Kallus would be.

He wasn’t and neither were Hera nor Jacen. Avi spotted Zeb and came trotting over, waving at his friends to keep playing without him.

“Where’s Kal and Jacen?” Zeb asked.

“ _Djadan_ Kal took him to your house,” Avi said.

 ** _Djadan_** _Kal_. Zeb couldn’t help but smile when he heard that. Avi, at least, had fully accepted Kallus into the family. Better than his father.

Zeb ruffled the fur on top of Avi’s head and sent him back to play. He took the stairs to his house two at a time, getting there just as Hera emerged, Jacen on her hip.

“You’re leavin’?” Zeb asked. He’d hoped she would stay for the afternoon.

“Gotta contact the New Republic, let them know we’re coming,” she explained. “I’m going to try and talk with Chancellor Mothma directly and have arrangements made so your brother doesn’t have to sleep on a ship the entire time we’re there.”

Zeb nodded. He’d still rather spend the day with Hera and Jacen, but she made sense. “Okay. You’re welcome to come back for dinner, though.”

Jacen yawned widely and tried to bury his head in Hera’s shoulder.

“Kallus already invited us,” Hera said. She patted Zeb on the arm. “Take care of him, okay? We’ll see you later. This one needs a nap, too.”

Zeb watched her go, his heart tugging a bit, but he perked up when he realized he had a whole afternoon of Kallus all to himself.

Surely they could find something that wasn’t too _strenuous_.

Zeb entered the house and stopped. The whole place smelled of namona. “Kal?”

“In here!” came the reply from the kitchen. 

Zeb followed the smell into the kitchen, where he found Kallus soaking a bunch of namona sticks in hot water. “What are you doing?”

“We’re making a broom,” Kallus said. “Avi and Jacen and I gathered the sticks.”

“I don’t have ribbon,” Zeb said.

“Yes, you do.” Kallus motioned toward the bedroom. “Your bo-rifle straps.”

It took Zeb a second to realize that Kallus was exactly right. What better ribbon to symbolize their mating than straps from his weapon? They’d both wielded it at times, even if briefly.

Closing the distance between them, Zeb scented Kallus’s cheeks. “This is what I mean when I say you’re the smart one.”

“We are not getting into that argument again,” Kallus said, nuzzling the soft spot just below Zeb’s ear. “We’ve got to get ready to leave again.”

“But we’re coming back this time.”

“We’re coming back,” Kallus confirmed. “But there’s no telling how long we’ll be gone. Best to prepare the house and pack all our things.”

“Later,” Zeb said, taking Kallus’s hand. “First we’re making a broom. Together.”

Kallus smiled and Zeb felt his heart melt. Seeing Kallus smile so much was something to be treasured, he thought. Kallus deserved to smile more.

Zeb was determined to see that he always had a reason to.


	14. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to post this a few days ago but forgot??? Sorry y'all!
> 
> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader  
> Aman – mother  
> Djadan – uncle

Kallus sat in the cockpit of the _Glimmer_ , running his hands over the pilot’s console as if he needed to re-familiarize himself. He didn’t, of course, as it’d been less than two weeks since he last flew his ship, but _karabast_ , what a two weeks.

He felt like a completely different person than the Kallus who’d landed on Lasan only to get shot.

Idly, he fiddled with the leather bracelet on his left wrist. He and Zeb had remade them both the night before, braiding longer strands of each other’s hair in them. Kallus’s even had a bit of Zeb’s bo-rifle strap, for good measure.

Kallus still wasn’t used to the feeling of it on his wrist, but he liked the reminder of Zeb every time he saw it or felt it move. He wished he had the ability to smell it like a lasat could.

“Ready, Kal?”

Shaken from his reverie, Kallus glanced at Zeb in the copilot’s seat and then at the others in the cockpit: Kafzyr, Vashtyr, and Avi. His new family.

“I’m ready if everyone else is.” Eyeing Avi in particular, he instructed everyone to sit down and strap in.

Outside the transparisteel viewport, the _Ghost_ had already taken off and was well on the way to space. Kallus flipped on the repulsorlifts and the _Glimmer_ rose smoothly off the ground.

“Wow,” came Avi’s voice.

“Just keep watchin’, kid,” Zeb said. 

Kallus smiled tightly, quietly amused, and, as gracefully as possible, followed Hera into space. They broke through the upper atmosphere and Kallus heard both Kafzyr and Avi gasp.

“There’s so many stars!” Avi exclaimed. “I thought there were a lot already, but there’s more! And look, _Aman_ , planets!”

Without waiting for permission, Avi unclipped his safety belt and ran to the viewport. Zeb put a hand lightly on the kit’s back, ready to grab him if necessary.

Vashtyr and Kafzyr were quieter, but out of the corner of his eye, Kallus saw Vashtyr reach out and take Kafzyr’s hand. She’d been to space as a kit, Kallus knew, but neither she nor Kafzyr ever believed lasat would go back to space in their lifetimes.

Struck with a sudden whim, Kallus thumbed the comm switch. “Go ahead, Hera. We’ll be a few minutes behind you.”

Zeb shot him a curious look and Kallus shrugged. He turned the _Glimmer_ around to face Lasan.

Kafzyr stood then, staring at his home planet. 

Kallus could remember the first time he went to space, as an Academy student. It’d been in a shuttle and he barely got to see anything, but he clearly remembered their return to Coruscant and the first time he saw the planet from space.

Coruscant had been named after the vibrant and strong corusca gemstones and Kallus supposed at one time, perhaps at the height of the Old Republic, Coruscant had glittered like one. The Coruscant he saw, however, was very different. The space around it was cluttered with satellites and ships, the skies filled with pollution and skyhooks owned by the wealthy who wanted to escape the dinginess of the street levels.

Still, it had been the only home he’d ever known, and the moment felt magical. For the first time, he felt a stab of pride in being from the galactic capital. A taste of superiority, even though he’d come from the sewer levels. Surely it was better to be lower class Coruscanti than from anywhere else?

Kallus knew better now, of course, and envied Zeb his almost idyllic childhood on Lasan, but he could still imagine what Kafzyr and Avi must be feeling, seeing Lasan for the first time.

Avi was still chattering, pointing out continents and oceans as if he were the first to discover them, but Kallus caught Kafzyr with a quiet tear in his eye.

He didn’t say anything for fear of alienating his brother-in-law. Kallus just exchanged a smile with Zeb and let the ship hang there in space for a good long while. He used the time to recheck the hyperspace coordinates, even though Hera had provided them. On the whole, Kallus trusted Chopper not to send them into a star, but he felt better doing the double-check anyway.

Eventually, Vashtyr put a hand on Kallus’s shoulder and nodded. It was time to go.

Kallus steered the _Glimmer_ out toward the hyperspace lanes. “Watch this,” he said to Avi, letting the kit pull the handle on the hyperdrive, sending them to lightspeed.

“Wow,” Avi said, looking at the mottled light show surrounding them. “Are we really going faster than light?”

“Only way to travel from planet to planet,” Zeb said. “‘Less you wanna take years.”

“How long does it take?” Avi asked.

“It depends on where you’re going,” Kallus said. “Chandrila is going to take us about a day.”

“So let’s get you settled in cabins,” Zeb suggested. “And then we can figure out how to entertain ourselves.”

Kafzyr nodded slowly, still staring out the viewport. “That sounds good.”

Vashtyr laughed and tugged at both Kafzyr and Avi’s sleeves. “Come on,” she said. “You can come stare out the window _after_ we get our cabins.”

Zeb led them off and Kallus ambled along behind, letting Zeb make the decisions on who went where. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Zeb put everyone on the opposite side of the hall from them. Soundproofing on ships like the _Glimmer_ – and the _Ghost_ – wasn’t great, so every little bit of distance helped.

He liked that Zeb thought they’d need that distance. Of course, he’d be happy just sleeping with Zeb, but Tarkorra wasn’t around to fuss if they tried anything else.

Might as well take advantage of it, right?

* * *

Chandrila was a blue-green pearl floating in space, as beautiful as Alderaan had been, or so Zeb had heard. Alderaan had never had the space traffic Chandrila saw since becoming the New Republic capital, however.

The Hanna City spaceport gave them coordinates and Kallus followed them in. They didn’t lead to the general spaceport, where they’d landed before, but a military base near the capitol building. The landing bay they were directed to was set apart from the others and Zeb could see a small group of beings waiting for them.

Zeb watched proudly as Kallus set the _Glimmer_ down with a deft hand. He knew Kallus always compared himself to Hera, but his husband was a capable pilot as well and his time as Fulcrum had only sharpened that skillset. 

Kallus glanced at the others in the cockpit. “If you want to head on down, I’ll lower the ramp from here.”

Vashtyr nodded and led the way out of the cockpit, holding Avi’s hand tightly. Zeb hung back, waiting for his mate. 

Kallus shut the ship down, leaving only the life-support systems running, and looked at him tiredly. They’d slept during the hyperspace trip, but the trip had had several legs and Kallus had to do each hyperspace drop and start by hand. He’d been up and down during the sleep cycle.

Zeb had been, too, but he also fell back asleep quicker than Kallus. “Ready?” he asked gently.

Kallus grunted an affirmative. “Let’s go get Lasan the help it needs.”

 _We need_ , Zeb almost corrected, but he held his tongue. They hadn’t officially discussed whether or not they were staying long-term on Lasan or just while it rebuilt. Zeb knew he wanted to stay, but he had to consider Kallus’s wants and needs as well.

They made their way through the ship and down the ramp, to where the small greeting committee waited. Zeb recognized Hera, of course, and Chancellor Mothma and Princess Leia, and–

 _Chava_? What was she doing on Chandrila?

Zeb didn’t get to ponder that for long, because Kafzyr caught his attention. Chava seemed to have surprised him as well and he was bowing deferentially. Vashtyr bowed in turn; Avi just gaped at his parents.

It’d been a long time – before the attack – since Zeb had seen his brother act like that. Avi would have never seen it.

Zeb had told Kafzyr that Chava was a survivor, so that shouldn’t have been a shock to him, but meeting her there had to be a surprise.

Kallus gave Zeb a quick look, one eyebrow arched.

Zeb grinned. “He’s not the boss anymore,” he whispered.

Kallus nodded, smiling a little.

Chava looked up. “Warrior and Child!” she said. “You bring Lasan back to us!”

“Thought we were supposed to take you to Lira San and that was it,” Zeb grumbled. “How’d you know to be here?”

Chava banged her walking stick on the ground. “The Ashla sees all. The Ashla leads us true.”

Zeb fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew better than to discount the Ashla, but Chava sure made it difficult to put up with it.

The princess took a step forward, looking at Zeb and Kallus. “Captain Kallus, I’ve arranged transport for you to the military med center.”

“I’m fi–” Kallus started.

Zeb nudged him forward, cutting him off. “Good. He needs bacta at the very least.”

Kallus glared vibroblades at him. “I am _fine_ ,” he insisted. “We’re here for Lasan, not for me.”

Hera gave Kallus a look. “Kafzyr and Zeb are here for Lasan,” she corrected. “You’re here because you don’t know when to take it easy.”

It was obvious Kallus wanted to argue, but he held his tongue.

Mon Mothma spoke, her voice preternaturally calm as always. “If you would like to accompany your husband, Captain Orrelios, you are welcome to. We’ve arranged housing for you and your family while you are here, something perhaps a bit nicer than a ship’s cabin. We’d be glad to show them the way while you go to the med center. We can convene later this afternoon.”

“Good,” Zeb said. “I like that plan. Hera can comm me when you need me.”

“Garazeb…” Kafzyr scratched the back of his neck nervously. It was obvious he didn’t want Zeb to leave them on this new planet right away.

“Come, Kafzyr,” Chava said. “We have much to talk about before the Senate hears your story.”

Vashtyr nodded in agreement and that was that. Kafzyr didn’t argue as Chava led the group away, leaving behind only a Senatorial page.

“I really don’t need medical attention,” Kallus insisted. “I’m healing just fine.”

Zeb gave him a dubious look. Zeb had noticed the way Kallus was moving slowly, more slowly than could be explained by mere sleepiness, and trying not to turn his shoulders too much. His chest hurt; that much was obvious. “No,” Zeb said. “You’re going.”

“Zeb, you’re being unreasonable,” Kallus said. “Tarkorra did a perfectly good job.”

“Yeah, with what she had,” Zeb said. “And now we’re somewhere with more. Kal, please.”

Kallus bit his lip, eyes narrowed at Zeb, body tense.

Zeb knew what the problem was. Kallus had never gotten used to the amount of medical care the Rebellion provided. He’d always felt that, for him at least, the quick and shoddy sort of care the Empire would have given him was enough. It was fine if he healed a little slower or stayed in pain. He didn’t want to waste the resources when he could tough it out.

Well, that was bantha shit. The New Republic wasn’t as rich as the Empire, but they had more than enough resources to spend some on Kallus.

Taking his mate by the arm, Zeb looked at the page. “Take us to the med center,” he instructed. “I’ll drag him if I have to.”

He almost did. Kallus resisted at first, but relented after a moment, letting Zeb guide him to a waiting speeder. They rode in silence; practically, this was due to the speeder being open-air and the wind too loud, but Zeb knew it was really because Kallus was seething inside.

Zeb took Kallus by the hand at the med center, holding on firmly so Kallus would know he wasn’t getting out of seeking help.

The triage nurse took one look at Kallus’s chest, listened to him breathe, and admitted him directly, sending him to the wound care unit. Kallus snapped, saying he ought to be an outpatient, if a patient at all. The nurse, a tiny but fierce bimm, was not intimidated and lectured them both on the severity of his injuries and why he should have been brought to a med center much sooner.

Zeb agreed with her every step of the way and Kallus even quieted and let himself be placed in a room. With some satisfaction, Zeb watched Kallus shed his shirt and climb in the bed; satisfaction not at the sight, but at Kallus’s compliance.

Once he was settled, a human nurse came in and examined him, showing them both on the scanner exactly where Kallus’s lung had busted and how it was barely starting to heal. She declared they would need to treat his lung with a direct line for bacta.

“Great,” Kallus muttered. “You can use the hole that’s already there.”

“No,” she said. “The doctor will go in from the side, not the front. Besides, you’ve got some inflammation of this wound.”

She touched Kallus’s chest with a gloved hand and he hissed involuntarily. When Zeb raised his brows – _See?_ , he was trying to say – Kallus glared back.

“Placing a line there would only aggravate the wound and prevent healing,” the nurse finished.

Kallus sighed. “Can you do this without putting me to sleep?”

The nurse frowned. “Of course. It’ll all be done with a local anesthetic.”

Zeb flopped in the chair by Kallus’s bed, pretty certain Kallus wouldn’t try to bolt. “He’s just ornery,” he told the nurse. “You do whatever you have to do. I’ll hold him down if we need to.”

“ _Garazeb_ ,” Kallus said, voice low and irritated. “I can handle myself.”

“Sure you _can_ ,” Zeb agreed, but he tapped his bracelet where Kallus could see it. “But you don’t _get to_ anymore. Makin’ sure you heal up is my business.”

The nurse watched them with some amusement. “Stay here,” she instructed. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

Zeb snorted softly after she left. “They always say that, don’t they? Takes forever. Although it’s nice you get an actual doctor, not just a Rebellion medic.”

Kallus crossed his arms – Zeb saw him wince – and kept glaring. “I don’t need to be here,” he repeated.

“Yeah, you do,” Zeb said. “Even Tarkorra would agree, so don’t go invokin’ her.”

“Why do you want to argue over this?” Kallus asked. “It’s not worth being here just to keep me from being a little achy. We should leave.”

Zeb gave Kallus a look. “It _is_ worth it. Your health is worth it to me. It’s more than makin’ sure you don’t ache. It’s makin’ sure this doesn’t happen again. It’s makin’ sure I don’t have to worry ‘bout you whenever you’re out of sight.” He paused, studying Kallus’s face. “Why are _you_ so set on not gettin’ help?”

Kallus held his gaze, silence stretching into an awkward few minutes. Zeb wasn’t going to give in first, however. He could out-stubborn Kallus any day; anyway, it wasn’t like it was a hardship to stare into those golden eyes.

Eventually, Kallus looked away, out the window to the Hanna City skyline. “I should be here supporting you,” he said slowly. “I _will_ heal without further treatment, so why should you be wasting your time here? You should be with your brother, arranging relief for Lasan. For your people.”

“They’re your people now, too, Kal,” Zeb said quietly. “And, prob’ly most important, _you’re_ my people now. What happens to you happens to me.”

Kallus didn’t get a chance to reply; the doctor showed up a lot sooner than Zeb had expected. She _tsk_ ed over Kallus’s current state and had him raise his hands above his head. Zeb couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it seemed to involve a lot of poking Kallus in the side with a needle before taking a laser scalpel to him.

Zeb got his answer anyway, though. As the doctor worked, Kallus held out his hand. With an encouraging smile, Zeb took it.

Kallus winced again. _I’m sorry_ , he mouthed.

Nodding, Zeb squeezed his mate’s hand. _I know_ , he wanted to say. _You’re an idiot and I love you, but you’re still an idiot_.

He didn’t have to, though. Kallus already knew.

* * *

Though he’d still argue it was unnecessary, Kallus felt better the day after the bacta treatment. Breathing no longer hurt, the two incisions in his chest were well on their way to healing, and the nurses were talking discharge.

 _About time_ , he thought. He ached to get out of the med center, to go back to the _Glimmer_ and get a sonic and a change of clothes. His beard could probably use a trim, too, he noted; it felt a little unkempt when he scratched at his chin.

Zeb had left early that morning, called to the Senate building by Hera, leaving Kallus by himself. He supposed that he’d have to wait until the Lasan delegation was through before he could be discharged; no one but Zeb would come for him, right?

Kallus was, again, wrong. A couple hours after Zeb left, Vashtyr showed up, Avi and Jacen in tow.

Kallus sat up in the bed, wishing he had more than a loose gown on. “Vashtyr, what are you doing here?”

She smiled. “We’re here to check on you. How’re you doing?”

“Better,” he said. “Did Zeb send you?”

“No,” she said and Kallus’s confusion must have shown on his face, because she laughed. “Kal, you’re family. I wanted to come.”

Kallus nodded. He knew that Zeb would choose to come to him. He knew the Spectres would have visited, though he suspected it would have been more for Zeb’s sake than his own. But he’d never imagined that any other lasat would go out of their way for him, even after he mated Zeb.

Every time he thought he had things figured out, he was proved wrong.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, hoping Vashtyr knew he truly meant it. “They’re willing to discharge me, but they won’t let me go alone.”

Jacen, who’d broken away from Avi a few minutes before, climbed onto the bed and settled into Kallus’s lap. Surprised once again, Kallus combed his fingers through the boy’s green hair. 

“You okay there, Jacen?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jacen said, seemingly satisfied where he was. 

Kallus intended to look to Vashtyr for some clue as to what to do, but Avi caught his eye instead.

The kit had crawled into a chair by the window and was staring out of it.

Frowning, Kallus watched him for a moment. “Are you all right, Avi?” he asked, repeating himself.

“Everyone really flies everywhere?” Avi asked, pointing at a passing speeder with a claw.

“As a rule,” Kallus said. 

“This is what Lasan used to be like,” Vashtyr said, moving to stand behind her son. “Years before you were born.”

“Before the Empire?” Avi asked.

Kallus bit his lip and looked away in shame, focusing on Jacen.

“Yes.” Vashtyr stroked the fur of his head. “Before the Empire. Lasan wasn’t made of so much metal, but it was this busy. There were gardens and plazas and the palace and the temple. Ithdasira was a place of beauty.”

 _And with luck, it will be again_ , Kallus thought. If the Senate listened to Kafzyr, Zeb, and Hera, it would be. 

Some of the damage he’d wrought in his life would be mended.

It wouldn’t absolve Kallus, but it _would_ make him feel a little more worthy of Zeb. Of belonging to his family.

Vashtyr smiled at Kallus and he tried to return the expression. He didn’t get the chance to say anything, however, because a nurse – a new one he hadn’t seen before – came in. They shooed Jacen off Kallus’s lap and checked his wounds, including the mating mark.

They glanced at the datapad in their left hand. “You refused treatment for this yesterday. Will you let us do a bacta treatment today?”

“No,” Kallus said firmly. “I want it to heal naturally.”

The nurse sighed. “How about some antibiotic gel to put on it? Not bacta, but to keep it from getting infected.”

Kallus glanced at Vashtyr, who nodded.

“All right,” he said. “We can do that.”

“Great,” the nurse said. They punched something into the datapad. “I’ll be back with that and then we can get you discharged.”

Kallus leaned back in the raised bed. “That’ll be good. How long will it take?” he asked impatiently. 

The nurse laughed. “Nothing moves too quickly around here. Give it an hour or so.”

Jacen promptly crawled back in Kallus’s lap as the nurse left, sticking his fingers in his mouth. Kallus looked at the boy quizzically, at least until he figured out that of all the people in the room, he was the one Jacen knew best. Vashtyr might be the better parent figure, but Jacen had only known her and Avi a couple of days.

Kallus tried to figure out what to do with Jacen. Did he rub the boy’s back? Rest a hand on his crossed leg? Wrap an arm around him? 

He settled on doing nothing at all, figuring less was better. 

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing he needed to figure out. The reason Vashtyr was there was because she, Avi, and Jacen weren’t welcome in the Senate-Lasan negotiations. As the only person who’d been on Chandrila before, that left Kallus in charge of entertaining them.

How did he entertain two kids?

“Wanna meiloorun,” announced Jacen, removing his fingers only long enough to speak.

“What’s a meiloorun?” asked Avi.

Kallus geared up to answer him, but Jacen beat him to it. “It’s yummy!”

“It’s a fruit,” Vashtyr said. “They don’t grow well on Lasan, which is why we don’t have them. They need a lot more rain than we get.”

Kallus frowned, reaching a realization. “The market,” he said. “We can go there after I’m discharged and get everyone a meiloorun.” _And it’ll have a lot of things to distract and entertain a kit who’s never been off Lasan_.

Two hours later, after a quick trip to the _Glimmer,_ a speeder cab dropped them off at the edges of the main market district. Seeing the crowd, Jacen automatically waited for Kallus to take his hand before moving forward.

Vashtyr gave Kallus a knowing look; Kallus returned it with a bewildered expression.

“Meiloorun!” Jacen announced, pulling on Kallus’s hand.

“All right, Jacen,” Kallus said. “They’ll be in the farmer’s market in the middle. You and I can show the way.”

They took off, Jacen tugging Kallus along behind him, Vashtyr and Avi following. Every now and again, Kallus glanced back to be sure they were doing all right.

Avi was stumbling over his own feet, trying to look at everything. His green eyes were wide with wonder.

Kallus tried to imagine what it must be like for Avi. He’d been sheltered in Velencia his whole life, only ever seen the world outside his village a handful of times. He’d grown up with little to no technological devices. The ideas of droids and datapads and holonet access were foreign to him.

There hadn’t been much in the way of luxuries where Kallus grew up, but he’d known they existed. He’d seen droids working in the streets and stores, particularly when he traveled to higher levels. He’d seen flashy advertisements and people walking around wearing more costly ornamentation that Kallus would ever own in his lifetime.

But he’d still _known_ about all those things he didn’t have. He knew how they worked, even if he couldn’t have them.

Avi never had that chance.

Kallus slowed down, holding Jacen back, so that Avi could see more. “If you see somewhere you want to stop…” he offered.

Vashtyr shook her head, smiling. “We’re fine,” she assured him.

Avi tugged at his mother’s arm. “ _Aman_ , can I bring something home?”

The smile dropped from Vashtyr’s face. “We’ll see, Avi,” she said. “Why don’t you take Jacen and he can show you what meilooruns are?”

Avi did as he was asked, taking Jacen’s other hand and leading him ahead.

Vashtyr fell in step beside Kallus, staying just a few meters behind the boys. “So do kits usually terrify you or is something on your mind?”

Kallus faltered in his step, head jerking to look wide-eyed at his sister-in-law. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been watching Avi and Jacen as if they might bite you,” she said, amused. “I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. You weren’t this way with Avi a few days ago.”

“A lot’s happened in a few days,” Kallus pointed out. “A few days ago, I wasn’t mated.”

“A few days ago, you were still trying to pretend you didn’t _want_ to be mated,” Vashtyr amended. “Very poorly, I might add. I thought you said you’d been a spy.”

“An informant, yes.” Kallus wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or be offended. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m asking you what you’re thinking,” Vashtyr said. “Friends and family do that, you know.”

 _Friends and family_. Kallus breathed deep and braced himself. His instinct was to lie and pretend nothing was wrong. But Vashtyr was right and Zeb would encourage him to be honest if he were there.

“Zeb wants a kit. Maybe more than one,” Kallus confessed. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked. “You _are_ good with Avi and Jacen obviously likes you.”

Kallus laughed shortly. “Me? A father? I never planned on marriage or children; I was supposed to live in service to the Empire, then I was going to die serving the Rebellion. It wasn’t in the picture. I don’t know what to do with a child like Jacen, much less a baby. And, of course, there’s the gross injustice of _me_ raising a lasat kit. I’m the last person who should be entrusted with the life of a lasat.”

“Garazeb trusts you with his life,” Vashtyr pointed out. “But I understand. I never wanted a kit either. I became an _Arkesana_ in part to take it off the table.”

That brought Kallus up short. Vashtyr seemed to connect so naturally with her son, to mother him almost effortlessly. He’d imagined she’d always wanted to have kits, but it was true she’d been an _Arkesana_. “What changed your mind?”

“Kafzyr. After the attack, once we all regrouped and realized we were going to survive, he said some things were more important than our vows to devote ourselves to the Ashla. Repopulating Lasan was to be a priority. The Ashla would want _that_ from us instead.”

“He didn’t– he didn’t force you into it, did he?” Kallus asked warily.

“Hardly,” she said. “I saw he was right and decided that if I was going to end up with someone, it might as well be someone I respected and worked well with, so I approached him. _I_ suggested we marry and try for kits.”

Kallus nodded. That was a practicality he could respect. It left him wondering, however, how they came to be in love as much as they obviously were and why they’d only ever had Avi. Both were intensely personal questions, however, so he held his tongue.

“I had figured that Zyr and I would work well together as friends and parents, but after Avi came along, Zyr loved him, and through him learned to love me.” She shrugged. “Love for me came after that, but it did come, as did enjoying being an _aman_.”

That wasn’t how Kallus would have predicted it happening, but he could see it, once he thought about it.

Vashtyr smiled. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can say I think the two of you would provide a kit with a lot of love.”

 _But that’s not all a kit needs, is it?_ Kallus thought. _Stability. Trust. Safety. Structure. I can provide some of those, but safety? Trust? Why would anyone trust me?_

He decided to deflect the question. “I know this is none of my business, but is that why you and Kafzyr don’t wear the bracelets? Because it was perfunctory to start with?”

Vashtyr seemed to know exactly what he was doing. “That’s right.” She sighed. “Some days I think I’d like a token – a bracelet or something – but I’m not sure what Zyr would think. And I know he loves me and Avi without it.”

Ahead of them, Avi and Jacen were at the fruit merchant’s stand, clamoring for meilooruns. Aware that Vashtyr wouldn’t have any credits, Kallus pulled out his credchip and paid for a sack of the fruits, enough for the kids to have one now and all of them to have one after dinner.

As they walked through the other stalls, Jacen showing Avi how to eat a meiloorun, Vashtyr turned the conversation back to Kallus. “I know bracelets generally aren’t a human way to mark mating. What are your culture’s traditions?”

Kallus almost laughed. He didn’t instinctively think of his family having a ‘culture’, but he supposed everyone did, even if it wasn’t very flashy or nuanced. “I come from Coruscant,” he said. “I grew up in the sewer levels, down where the sun never reached. We were poor enough that my older sister and I had to supplement our family’s income by hunting pests for bounties. I suppose my younger sisters had to do the same after Katya and I left for school. There wasn’t money for much surrounding weddings.”

Vashtyr nodded. “I can imagine.”

“Couples would go to a clerk and have a civil ceremony performed with a few witnesses. They exchanged rings to symbolize the marriage. There wasn’t much of a spiritual aspect to anything down there,” Kallus said. “So no blessings from the Force or the Ashla.”

“No celebrations?”

Kallus shrugged. “Celebrations took away from working hours, took money most didn’t have. Weddings, anniversaries, birthdays; all were treated as any other day. My mother would try to make our favorite meals on special days, but it wasn’t guaranteed.” He laughed, caught between a smile and a frown. “I was always a problem. As a child, I had expensive tastes. That was part of the Empire’s initial appeal: I thought I could get such treats regularly. But then I was ISB and I realized the rest of my life would be spent eating ration bars and drinking nutritional beverages.”

He braced himself for some sign of disapproval, but it never came. Instead, Vashtyr put a hand on his shoulder. “None of us could have predicted how the end of this war would change us. Zyr always thought that someone would come find us again, but he expected it to be scavengers, smugglers or pirates looking for a base. He never thought it would be his long-dead brother.”

“I can assure you Zeb felt the same way about finding him,” Kallus said.

“ _Aman!_ ” Avi called from up ahead, gesturing for the adults to come look in a shop window. “Are these _droids?_ ”

Kallus looked in the window. It was, indeed, a droid repair shop and the window display had a half-assembled protocol unit, a few pit droids, and a small, broken-down MSE. A small smile formed at the sight of the MSE.

“Yes,” Vashtyr explained, pointing out the different types of droids and explaining what they did.

Jacen huffed in impatience and started to wander off. 

Kallus lunged and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back to the group. “Wait for the rest of us,” he instructed.

Jacen didn’t look enthused about the idea, but he obeyed, placing sticky, meiloorun-juice-covered fingers on the window. “Mouse!” he said, looking up at Kallus. “Your mouse?”

Kallus shook his head. “Not mine, Jacen.” He’d had MSE droids on the _Glimmer_ and they’d followed him around like pets, but they’d all stayed with the military when he retired. Before that, in the Empire, he’d modified MSEs to gather intelligence for him to send to the Rebellion. When he’d been discovered, he’d been in the process of trying to modify a few for small sabotage tasks.

“Hold on,” he said, entering the shop.

A few minutes later, he exited, the broken-down MSE under his arms. The boys looked excited and Vashtyr watched him in a little disapproval as he held the droid out for Avi to see.

He ignored her. “This is a MSE droid, Avi. They’re used for small tasks, like delivering messages or cleaning. I’ve used them for lots of things. I can show you how to fix this one up and then we can use it on the _Glimmer_ or in Velencia.”

“Don’t spoil him,” Vashtyr warned, even as Avi’s eyes lit up. “That can’t have been cheap. We aren’t here to use all your credits.”

Kallus couldn’t help but smile. He might not be sure about a kit of his own, but he was pretty sure he knew what uncles were supposed to do for nephews. Watching Zeb and Jacen had taught him as much. “That’s what _djadan_ s do, isn’t it?”

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. The look on Avi’s face made the expense worth it, however.

* * *

Zeb stopped in the doorway to the swanky hotel room the Senate had put them up in, frowning at the mess spreading across the small suite’s table. “Did you– did you buy a droid?”

Kallus looked up, almost guiltily. “It’s a project for Avi while we’re here.”

“A project for Avi or a project for you?” Zeb asked, coming to lean over the back of Kallus’s chair and kiss his mate on the top of the head.

Kallus reached up and caressed one of Zeb’s ears. “For Avi. I’m just checking out all the parts to see if I need to buy anything else.”

“Okay,” Zeb said dubiously. “What’d the med center say?”

“Basically the same thing as Tarkorra: take it easy, don’t strain myself.” Kallus set down the droid parts he was looking at and nudged Zeb out of the way so he could stand. “I behaved today.”

“Good,” Zeb said. He looked at the suite’s small kitchen and the meilooruns that sat on the counter. “We got anythin’ to eat besides fruit?”

“No,” Kallus said. “I should have gotten something, but Avi and Jacen both tired out before we did any real grocery shopping.”

Zeb hummed. “Okay. So do you want to head back out and find a restaurant? Ask Kafzyr and Vashtyr to join us?”

“Or,” Kallus said, trailing a couple of fingers along Zeb’s jaw. “We stay in and order room service. This _is_ on the Senate’s decicred, after all.”

“Ah. That sounds pretty good.” Zeb grinned. He pulled away and found the room service menu. After some deliberation, they put in an order for more food than they’d probably be able to eat.

Zeb was up to the challenge, though. It’d been a long day.

“How did the negotiations go? Is the Senate sending relief?”

“I think so,” Zeb said. “They’re willin’. Karabast, the ex-Imperial worlds were fallin’ over themselves to send help. But Kafzyr’s not sure what kind of help he wants. Kinda frustratin’.”

“You think he should take whatever’s offered?” Kallus sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off his shoes and socks.

“Yeah. I mean, Lasan is about as bad off as Geonosis was as far as destruction, but it’s got more survivors.” He shrugged. “Seems to me that any help is good help.”

“Any idea why Kafzyr’s reluctant?”

Zeb sat on the bed next to Kallus and pulled his mate tight, resting his face in Kallus’s hair. “Yeah, actually. Kafzyr made a comment about Chava comin’ back and reinstitutin’ the old ways. I think he’s scared of losin’ Vashtyr an’ Avi.”

“Hm,” Kallus mused. “I can see that. Vashtyr and I talked today. Did you know your brother is the romantic in that relationship? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Zeb huffed. “You didn’t know him before. I believe it.” He sat back up. “I thought he’d changed into someone tryin’ to hold onto power, but he’s trainin’ his own replacement. I think he’s just terrified of losin’ anythin’ more.”

“Do you think he’s training that girl so he can step down as _Arkesana_ and stay married without feeling guilty?” Kallus asked.

“Poss’bly.” Zeb sighed. “So how did your day go? Vashtyr keep the kits in line?”

“Believe it or not, that was a team effort,” Kallus said.

Zeb was surprised. “Kal! You babysat?”

Kallus laughed. “I did. Jacen wanted to stay with me over Vashtyr and Avi, so he stuck close.”

“Look at you, keeping kits.” Zeb wanted to press, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Kallus on the subject.

Thankfully, Kallus went there himself. “Vashtyr and I talked about having kits and I think she understands where I’m coming from, at least. She was very kind about it, though.”

Zeb’s heart sunk a little. “So she thinks we shouldn’t have a kit?”

“The opposite, actually,” Kallus said. “But she understands my fears.”

“And _you_ think we shouldn’t get a kit. Not even a human one.”

Kallus laughed once, harshly. “Zeb, I’m _terrified_ of raising a kit of any species, but I know you want one. Or ten, I don’t know how many. But I’m willing to have my mind changed.” He turned Zeb’s face to him. “Like I said before, talk me into it. I’d like to be convinced, so keep trying. Please.”

Zeb leaned into Kallus’s hand. “I can do that. I’ll _try_ to do that by the time we go back to Lasan.”

“I’m not putting a time limit on this, you know,” Kallus said. “If we’re old and gray and you convince me, we’ll do it then.”

Zeb chuckled and pulled Kallus into a hug. “We’ll talk,” he promised. “But whatever the answer is, I love you and I won’t regret makin’ you my mate.”

Kallus relaxed in his arms. “Thank you, Garazeb.”

Zeb looked up and to the door. “Now, when d’you think the food’s gettin’ here? I’m hungry,” he said, feeling a little mischievous. Maybe he could get Kallus back in a happier mood. “And I got ideas about what we do while waitin’.”

Kallus’s laughter was reward enough.


	15. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader  
> Amanketh – matriarch  
> Velenira - guide  
> Adan – father  
> Djedin – nephew  
> Djadan – uncle

Zeb leaned back on the sofa, yawning. It’d been another long day listening to negotiations and arguing with Kafzyr, trying to bring his brother around to the New Republic’s way of thinking while at the same time trying to explain his brother’s positions to the New Republic diplomats.

The problem was that the vision the New Republic had for a reborn Lasan was not Kafzyr’s vision. The New Republic wanted to turn the sparsely populated world into a haven for all refugees whose worlds had been destroyed by the Empire: Geonosians, Alderaanians, and Jedhans, just to name a few.

Kafzyr, on the other hand, wanted Lasan to be the lasat homeworld once more, not a dumping ground for the New Republic.

Zeb saw both sides. Perhaps it helped that he’d seen just how deserted and desolated Geonosis was. He’d seen the first Death Star destroy Scarif. He’d been to the space where Alderaan used to be. He knew the sort of total destruction the Empire had been capable of wreaking and he empathized with the survivors. Lasan was a large planet; there was plenty of room on the various continents for each refugee group to have its own enclave and not bother the others.

But on the other hand… Lasan had always been primarily lasat. There’d been a few merchants and traders and diplomats from other worlds, to be sure, but Lasan had been very isolationist. The Empire had attacked because Lasan wouldn’t welcome their presence, or at least that was the prevailing theory. Opening Lasan up to the galaxy like the New Republic wanted meant complying with what the _Empire_ wanted. It meant going against the wishes of the long-dead Queen and the Ashla as they’d understood it. It felt _wrong_.

Zeb didn’t know which was the right thing to do: help others or hold to the position that Lasan had quite literally died for?

He knew which Hera thought was right and he would normally follow her opinion, but Hera didn’t still carry an oath of loyalty to the Queen. Hera hadn’t been on Lasan before, didn’t know the culture beyond what she’d gleaned from Zeb himself. Her ignorance on the matter was probably Zeb’s fau–

Kafzyr broke Zeb’s train of thought by sitting on the sofa next to him. “He’s not bad at this,” he said begrudgingly.

Zeb frowned for a second and then realized Kafzyr was talking about Kallus. His mate was at the table, working on the MSE droid with Avi. The two of them chattered softly, Kallus pointing out where each part went and explaining what it was for, Avi asking questions faster than Kallus could answer them.

Zeb hummed. “Yeah, Kal’s good with droids, especially the MSEs. Used to use ‘em when he was a spy.”

“I meant Avi’s taken to him and he seems to have taken to Avi,” Kafzyr said begrudgingly. “Even your friend Hera’s son likes him.”

Watching Kallus just a little bit closer, Zeb saw what Kafzyr meant. Avi was being an enthusiastic ten-year-old and Kallus was keeping him entertained and teaching him a skill with more patience than he’d ever seen from Kallus before. Then again, he’d never watched Kallus try to teach something before. He’d always done that in Intelligence, or with the Commandos, or one the _Glimmer_.

Kallus glanced toward Zeb, smiling a little when he saw Zeb watching.

Zeb smiled back, a little sadly. Kallus _was_ good with Avi, it was true. He’d never believe it if Zeb tried to tell him so, however. It was a shame; Zeb wished Kallus could see what he did.

A knock on the door broke the moment. Vashtyr answered it, letting in Chava. Kavzyr and Zeb stood quickly out of deference; Kallus and Avi followed suit a few moments later.

Chava’s staff clacked on the floor as she made her way to the couch, taking Kafzyr’s spot once he moved out of the way.

They all sat back down, Kafzyr moving to the table by Avi.

“So,” Chava said. “Lasan lives. The Child and the Warrior are bringing it back to life.”

“Wait,” Zeb protested. “I’m not so sure–”

Chava shut him up with a look.

Kallus was not so easily cowed. “It seems to me that Lasan was always alive, thanks to the efforts of Kafzyr and Chaftin and other leaders. We’re simply reconnecting it with the rest of the galaxy.” He glanced at Kafzyr. “Or trying to.”

Chava ignored Kallus. “What will Lasan look like after you rebuild?” she asked, directing her question to Kafzyr.

“That depends,” he said. “Are you returning? Who survived in your refugee community? Did any of the royal family survive off-planet? Are we being overrun by non-lasat?”

“One question at a time, _uvkirana_.” Chava clicked her staff again. “My home is on Lira San now, Kafzyr Orrelios. You will have to find your way without me.”

Vashtyr and Kafzyr exchanged a look. “Shall we go back to the old ways? Or do we continue the ways that helped us survive all these years?”

Chava hummed thoughtfully. “Lasan’s path is its own,” she said. “These new ways may have helped you survive, but they may not let you flourish as part of the galaxy. A compromise seems to be wise.”

It finally occurred to Zeb that if they went back to the old ways, both Kafzyr and Vashtyr would be bound by their old oaths not to marry or have families. They’d have to walk away from each other and Avi. How could either of them do that? What would become of Avi?

Well, Zeb knew the answer to that question. He and Kallus would take in Avi as the kit’s closest family.

As much as he already loved his _djedin_ , he hoped it didn’t come to that.

Kafzyr nodded, as if he gleaned the answer he needed from Chava’s words. Maybe he had; he’d had lots more experience dealing with the old _Arkesana_ than Zeb had.

Kallus spoke up, ending the brief silence. “I think it would be wise to perform a census of the survivor communities – both on Lasan and Lira San – so that families can reconnect and we can get a better idea of who and what we’re working with.”

He was right, Zeb knew. Certainly as soon as Chava took the news of Lasan’s survivors back to Lira San, the refugees there would be clamoring to know who survived.

Chava looked at Kallus as if seeing him for the first time. She pointed first at him – or his arm, rather – then at Zeb. “You listened to the Ashla, I see.”

Zeb frowned. Chava had seen him both of the past two days and hadn’t mentioned the mating bracelet. Why now?

 _Because she can bug us both about it now_ , he thought, rolling his eyes. While he couldn’t deny he and Kallus had been brought together in an unusual fashion, he didn’t know if he’d say it was the _Ashla_ playing matchmaker. He didn’t want to say anything to encourage Chava.

Kallus apparently disagreed. He bowed his head slightly and said, “Was it the Ashla that brought us together or was it the result of Garazeb encouraging me to question my circumstances?”

“Both, I would say,” Vashtyr said. “From the story you told us, it’s hard to believe the Ashla _didn’t_ have a hand in putting you two in exactly the right place at the right time. It took the two of you together to find Lira San.”

Zeb huffed. “Took Hondo Ohnaka too. Is he supposed to be part of our relationship as well? Why does the Fool get left out?”

Chava’s staff tagged Zeb in the shins, hard, making him yelp. He rubbed his leg and glared at Chava.

“Remember, Garazeb. You are never _one_ of the prophesied. In time you are–”

“All of them. I remember,” Zeb said. “Didn’t answer my question.”

Chava gave him a stern look and Zeb knew she wasn’t _going_ to answer his question. He looked at Kallus, who gave him an amused look. Zeb scowled back at him, earning a full-blown smile.

“None of the royal family have survived that we know about,” Chava continued, as if their aside had never happened.

“So we need to locate the highest-ranking surviving family and make the _amanketh_ the new leader,” Kafzyr said. “Not a queen, but a _velenira_. A guide.”

“How will you determine the highest-ranking family?” Kallus asked.

Chava looked straight at Vashtyr. “You’ve already determined it, Kafzyr,” she said. “By leading our people, you’ve nominated yourself. Or rather, your mate.”

Avi’s head shot up and Vashtyr’s eyes widened, as did Zeb’s. He hadn’t expected _that_ to be Chava’s solution.

“No,” Kafzyr protested. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“Put it to a vote?” Vashtyr suggested. “Other planets elect their leaders, so why can’t we? The _amanketh_ elected can serve a term or for life.”

Kafzyr shifted uncomfortably, but he nodded. “This should be discussed with the elders. We’ve made things work all these years, but if we rebuild Ithdasira, those things should be formalized.”

“Of course,” Chava said. “But do not be surprised to find yourself nominated, Vashtyr. You have always shown grace.”

Vashtyr inclined her head, saying nothing.

Chava stood. “You have much to discuss and do not require my presence. You have wisdom enough in this room.”

Zeb stood and saw Chava out the door. He turned around to find Avi frowning at his parents. 

“Why didn’t you say yes?” he asked.

Vashtyr held out her arms and Avi sat in her lap, still looking concerned. “It would be a big responsibility.”

“But _Adan_ already–”

Kafzyr cut him off. “ _Adan_ only does what needs to be done. That doesn’t mean I want myself or your mother to be in charge.”

Rubbing Avi’s back, Vashtyr said, “We will vote, Avi. And we will respect the results of that vote, whoever it is.”

Zeb watched this with some interest. He wasn’t interested in leading – he’d had enough of that in the Honor Guard – nor _could_ he formally lead, not being female. But his brother’s mate…

Well, Chava had been right. Vashtyr did display a lot of grace. There were worse choices, certainly.

That would change things for Kallus, too. Being part of the ruling family would either mean he would be accepted easily or rejected completely.

Of course, no vote had been held yet. And unless Kafzyr accepted the New Republic’s help, no vote would be held. Zeb would just have to wait and see what his brother did.

And how his life would be affected because of it.

* * *

Listening to Zeb, Kafzyr, and Vashtyr discuss a new form of government for Lasan, Kallus had gotten the impression negotiations were coming to an end and that Kafzyr would accept the help. That meant their time on Chandrila was coming to an end as well.

While Kallus knew Zeb was eager to get back to Lasan and see it rebuilt, he felt a little bit of stress about returning. He lay in their bed, wide awake in the early hours of the morning, trying to figure out why.

The obvious answer was that the last time he landed on Lasan, he got shot. Arriving with Kafzyr and wearing a mating bracelet, however, meant that no one was likely to make that mistake again.

He examined himself seriously, wondering if he still harbored some buried Imperialesque speciesism and didn’t want to leave a mostly human-populated planet. He didn’t _think_ that was the case, as he’d been comfortable on Lira San and had been beginning to feel that way on Lasan, but he couldn’t rule it out entirely. The Empire’s grip on him had been all-consuming yet insidious.

Perhaps it was simply unease at not knowing what his place would be on Lasan, rebuilt or not. As much as he loved Zeb, Kallus was not cut out to be a househusband. He needed a _job_ , if not a full-blown calling. It made him restless not to have something to plan for.

He’d gone along with Zeb’s plan to ‘just rest’ after the war on Lira San, enjoying enough down time for a lifetime, and life on Lasan had been hectic, jumping from one crisis to another. Even when he hadn’t been preparing for a big event, he’d tiptoed around trying not to make anyone else mad enough to shoot him again.

Zeb would probably argue with Kallus about seeking a job, but Kallus felt sure he’d come around soon enough. Zeb was a man of action as well and had been his whole life. He’d find himself bored and looking for entertainment soon enough, after he got over the newness of having family again.

Kallus sighed and threw an arm over his face, trying to block out the glow of the chrono by the bed. He wanted to believe he was just antsy, but in the dark of the night, it was harder to hide the blackest parts of himself away. Harder to believe he deserved the life he was getting, no matter how many times Zeb offered reassurances or argued with him.

Vash’s words to him in the marketplace floated through his mind. “ _I think the two of you would provide a kit with a lot of love._ ”

 _How can I provide love to a child when I never really knew any from my family_? he wondered. _How can I be worthy of raising a child_? _Me, who perpetrated so many horrors_? _How can I even be worthy of Zeb_? _Of the approval of Vash and Avi and Hera and Jacen_? _Kafzyr is right about me_.

Zeb rolled over in the bed, one arm reaching out and seeking Kallus, pulling him close and nuzzling into his hair.

Warmth surrounding him once more, Kallus remembered Zeb’s main argument: “ _You don’t get to choose how others feel about you_.”

He had to try and accept that others saw something in himself that he didn’t. Couldn’t. Perhaps even wouldn’t. He had to accept their opinions. It wasn’t easy – he couldn’t just flip a switch in his thinking – but it was important that he try.

For Zeb. For the rest of his new family.

Kallus rolled in Zeb’s grasp until he was facing his husband, opting to spend the rest of the night – waking or not – with his head buried in Zeb’s chest.

Zeb hummed and pulled him even tighter. “Yer awake,” he mumbled. “Stop it.”

Laughing once, almost desperately, Kallus replied, “I’m attempting to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“How many times I gotta tell ya, you think too loud?” Zeb said.

Kallus looked up into Zeb’s face, sleepy green eyes staring back at him. “Are you sure you’re not Force-sensitive?”

“Karabas’, no,” Zeb said. “That’s _Arkesana_ s wi’ their Ashla. Chava. Kafzyr. Vashtyr. Not me.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. “ _Kafzyr_ is Force-sensitive?”

Zeb groaned and rubbed at his eyes to wake up a little more. “Sorta? Way he said it t’me was tha’ they use kyber to connect wi’ th’ Ashla.”

“Ah, I see,” Kallus said, though he didn’t really. “I’m sorry I woke you, Zeb.”

“Me too.” Zeb ran his hand down Kallus’s arm, picking up his hand and kissing his palm. “So sleep?”

“Sleep,” Kallus agreed.

Finally, tangled up with Zeb, Kallus was able to relax enough to sleep. 

That turned out to be a very good thing, because just a few hours later, he found himself with both Avi and Jacen to entertain without Vashtyr’s help. After the conversations of the day before, Kafzyr decided she needed to be in on the negotiations. Kallus thought it might help the negotiations go more smoothly, but it certainly wasn’t helping him.

That wasn’t to say that Avi and Jacen were _bad_. He was simply learning that entertaining a ten-year-old and entertaining a four-year-old were two very different things and hard to juggle at the same time. The best he could do was to enlist Avi’s help in watching Jacen, but Avi was only so interested in his younger companion. For him, the excitement was all the new technology and new species.

Kallus and Vashtyr had taken them to some tourist spots in Hanna City, as well as on a boat ride off Junari Point on the nearby coast, and while Kallus would be happy to keep the boys entertained that way, he only had so many credits in his accounts and those activities were expensive.

At a loss for anything else, he took them back to the market, hoping to entertain Avi with some people-watching and maybe a new cuisine for lunch.

As with any plan involving children – or so he was learning – things were bound to hit a snag at some point.

Jacen dragged his feet, trying to delay the trip out of the hotel room, while Avi was almost vibrating with energy. Kallus managed to wrangle them both out by bribing Jacen with the promise of dessert with lunch. He wasn’t sure how _good_ of a tactic that was, but it was effective.

The market was busy and the three attracted plenty of attention, to Kallus’s dismay. He supposed it was inevitable, however: a tall human, a lasat, and a human-twi’lek hybrid were hardly inconspicuous. With luck, that wouldn’t make them a target for someone seeking harm.

While snacking on jogans, the boys were drawn to the droid shop one more time. Jacen pronounced Chopper better than any of the droids on offer, while Avi thought his little MSE droid was superior. Kallus let the boys argue it out while he contemplated using the last of his saved credits to buy more droids to take back to Lasan and gift to Velencia, but he couldn’t decide on what kind would be the most helpful.

That’s when it happened.

Kallus had been a street kid of sorts. To help feed his family, he’d resorted to all sorts of legal and illegal means of acquiring credits. What he hadn’t learned on the streets, he’d learned as an ISB agent as a way of gathering evidence. So when he felt his clothes move oh-so-slightly, he knew he was being pickpocketed.

Spinning, Kallus snatched the offender’s arm. Blue skin peeked through his fingers and Kallus’s blood chilled. It couldn’t be…

He looked up into the pickpocket’s eyes. They were blood-shot, but white.

Kallus swallowed, forcing down his panic. The man was pantoran. It wasn’t Thrawn. Couldn’t be Thrawn. He wasn’t even tall enough to be Thrawn.

The man was frozen in place, Kallus’s credchip in hand. He was pathetic looking, so much so that Kallus almost took pity on him and let him have it.

 _Almost_.

Kallus put on an angry scowl, masking his brief scare. “What are you doing?” he growled, as low and menacing as he could manage, pulling himself up to his full height.

The man tried to pull away, dropping the credchip, but Kallus wouldn’t let go.

“Jacen, grab that chip,” he instructed, eyes not leaving his pickpocket.

The pantoran didn’t look like he was all there. Glitterstim, maybe. Spice, perhaps. It didn’t matter what he was on, however, because he tried to swing at Kallus in an effort to get free.

Kallus let him hit his jaw, knowing the man would break his fingers before breaking a jawbone, but that was the only hit he allowed. He yanked the man’s arm down, twisting him until he was bent over, and jabbed the man in the neck. Not fatally, just enough to hurt the rest of the day and make him think twice about targeting Rebellion veterans.

Or anyone, really.

The man yelped – well, he tried to – but Kallus held on, taking a second to make sure the boys were safely behind him. Thankfully, Avi had grabbed Jacen’s hand and was holding him back against the droid shop window.

Scanning the crowd coming to a halt around them, Kallus noticed a few of them on their comlinks, summoning the Chandrila police force. That was _not_ good. He knew what it was like to be hungry on the streets, so he had been planning to let the man go after encouraging him to pick his marks better. And if he ended up being taken to the station to give a statement, bringing the boys into such an environment, Hera and Kafzyr just might kill him.

And if he was brought in himself for creating a public disturbance, they definitely _would_ kill him. Zeb, too.

Maybe they could all get away before any authorities arrived.

He pulled the pantoran close, hissing in his ear. “Watch who you try to pickpocket next time.” Kallus frowned, slightly annoyed. “And don’t hit someone in the face unless you want to break fingers. Got it?”

The man nodded. Kallus let him go with a slight shove. He stumbled away and disappeared into the crowd.

“Come on,” he said gently, holding his hands out for them. “Let’s get out of here.” He hustled them through the market, seeking out a place to take shelter.

There. An Ithorian restaurant. Vegetarian fare, quite different from what he’d been fed on Lira San and Lasan both, which satisfied his desire to show Avi something new. Kallus ducked into the restaurant, glad to be off the street for a bit. Glad to have a moment to breathe after the sheer terror of thinking Thrawn had found him.

“What did that man do?” Avi asked once they were seated. “Why did he hit you?”

“He was a pickpocket,” Kallus said. Avi frowned, still confused, and Kallus realized he never would have run into the concept. “He was trying to steal my credchip from my pocket without me noticing.”

“But you caught him.” 

“I did,” Kallus said, hoping to end the conversation there, but he wasn’t that lucky.

“How did you know?” Jacen asked, piping up for the first time since they sat down.

Kallus sighed. “Because I used to pickpocket when I was a child, so I knew what he was doing.”

“You _stole_?” Avi sounded scandalized. Jacen perked up at Avi’s distress, looking up at Kallus with big eyes.

Kallus considered whether or not to tell the boys the truth. He decided it was better to be open with them than to try to hide; at least in some matters. “I grew up very poor,” he explained. “On Coruscant, which is busier than Chandrila. Bigger, too. If I wanted my family to eat, my sister and I had to pickpocket and do small jobs.”

Avi seemed to mull over that for a moment. “You have a sister?”

A little surprised that’s what Avi took away from his statement, Kallus bit his lip. “I have three sisters. I think they’re all still alive, but I haven’t talked to them in years. Coruscant isn’t a safe place for me to visit, so I can’t go find out.”

“Don’t you want to know?” Avi asked.

Kallus breathed deep. He’d done well not to think of his family for years, not to wonder what happened to them. Not to imagine the Empire taking his defection out on them. “Yes, Avi. I’d like to know. But I don’t have a way to do that.”

Jacen pointed at Kallus’s belt. “Use your comlink,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

Kallus smiled sadly. If only it were that simple. “I could put them in danger if I called them. The ISB is still very active there.”

“What’s the ISB?”

Kallus looked back at Avi, hesitating for a second. “The Imperial Security Bureau. Their job is to find people who sympathize with the Rebellion – the New Republic, now – and imprison them.” _Or worse_ , he added mentally; the boys didn’t need to know that much. “It’s who I used to work for before I defected, so I know how dangerous they can be.”

Avi frowned. “ _Adan_ said you were Imperial. Are you?”

Kallus shook his head quickly, reaching a hand out to Jacen, stopping him from climbing out of his chair. “I _used_ to be. I thought I was doing what was right, but your _Djadan_ Garazeb showed me I was wrong.”

Avi mulled over that for a few minutes, brow screwed up in thought. “So _Adan_ isn’t right?”

“Your _adan_ is right about my past, but that was six years ago. Since then, I worked for the Rebellion until it became the New Republic. I wouldn’t go back for anything now.” Kallus looked at each boy in turn. “People can change, don’t forget that. _Anyone_ can change if they’re given a chance.”

“Anyone?” Avi asked.

“Anyone,” Kallus assured him.

He was lying, he knew. Kallus couldn’t imagine Grand Moff Tarkin recanting his beliefs, but outside of the Emperor’s inner circle? Anything was possible.

Kallus had to believe that, for his own sake.

* * *

Zeb leaned back in his chair and stifled a yawn. The negotiations were finally becoming actual _negotiations_ , not explanations and arguments, but stars, they were boring.

Chancellor Mothma leaned forward once more. “ _Arkesana_ Orrelios, I’m not sure you truly understand the plight of our other refugees.”

“I understand them,” Kafzyr replied, a little too mildly. Zeb could tell his brother was actually very ticked off. “And I’m not denying them outright. I’m just saying, as I have this whole time, that Lasan needs to become home to the lasat species again.”

“You have Lira San,” said a senator. “Why do you need Lasan to yourself as well?”

Kafzyr half-snarled. “You have Mon Cala. Why not just drop the Jedhans there?” Vashtyr laid a hand on his arm and he calmed some, settling back in his chair.

“Lira San culture is not Lasan culture. We share a species and a long-forgotten history, but we are no more like each other than any two other planets here in the greater galaxy,” Vashtyr said, much more politely. “You wouldn’t suggest Coruscant has the same culture as Lothal simply because they both have large human populations, would you?”

Zeb almost snorted at the example. He knew Vashtyr had picked those two planets because of the stories Zeb and Kallus had told. Coruscant – the Empire – had done their best to monotonize cultures across the galaxy, but most planets still had their own particular flavor.

“We understand _your_ point,” said Princess Leia, seated on Mon Mothma’s left side. “Alderaanians aren’t looking to take over your planet, simply find a safe new home. We would be willing to reevaluate the situation after your major cities are remade, if you’re willing to entertain that idea. Maybe once your people are settled, we can discuss my people.”

“That sounds okay,” Zeb said, looking at his brother and sister-in-law. “Get the help we need right now and then see what help we can offer others once we’re better off. Right?”

Zeb braced himself for a rebuttal, but Kafzyr stayed silent. Wisely, in Zeb’s opinion.

Vashtyr nodded. “I think we can agree to that.”

Everyone looked at Kafzyr, who nodded begrudgingly. “We can do that.”

A murmur of relief went through the line of gathered senators.

“We’re glad to hear that,” Mon Mothma said. “Shall we discuss the details of the assistance we can give?”

Kafzyr leaned forward, ready to engage again.

Zeb about closed his eyes, listening to Kafzyr and the senators hash out what would happen next. The offer of construction droids for the major cities made sense, as did the engineers to control the droids. Relief funds to be distributed on a monthly basis to the survivors and refugees who moved back to Lasan was a bit of a surprise, but Zeb supposed it made sense. There was a whole active galactic economy out here and Lasan couldn’t join in without something of value to trade, be it items or credits. The amount offered wasn’t much, but it would let Lasan’s economy become credit-based again instead of bartering.

Chava agreed to tell the other refugees about Lasan, and the New Republic volunteered to send a military ship or two to help move anyone who wanted to leave Lira San.

Zeb had almost fallen asleep when everyone stood, the meeting dismissed. He jerked back awake, standing quickly. He thought he’d gotten away with it until he noticed the princess stifling a laugh.

He grinned at her. The _Ghost_ crew had only ever worked with the princess directly a few times, but it was enough that he thought of her more as a military leader than royalty. Her status as the representative for the Alderaanian Remnant didn’t intimidate him; it just made him respect her a little more. 

The princess’s clothes were a little tight today, Zeb noticed when she stood. If he wasn’t mistaken, which he very well might be, her stomach was rounding out in the same way Hera’s had in the early stages of her pregnancy.

Jacen had been a wartime kit, but if the princess was having a baby, too… well, that sort of signaled a new beginning, didn’t it? Kits would be born that didn’t know war from here on out. Lasan, too, really. The rebuilt planet would be fresh and new and ready to face a galaxy at peace.

He couldn’t wait for that.

Their group – Hera, Kafzyr, Vashtyr, and Chava – gathered in the sunlit plaza outside the Senate building. They broke naturally, Chava to talk with Kafzyr and Vashtry, Zeb to talk to Hera.

“I think that went well,” Hera said, walking leisurely toward the fountain.

“Yeah,” Zeb agreed. “‘M not surprised Kafzyr doesn’t want other refugees, though.”

Hera shook her head. “I can’t say I am, either. But maybe, once things start to normalize, he’ll change his mind.”

“Maybe,” Zeb said. Privately, he wasn’t so sure. A part of him wanted to see Lasan return to her old isolationist ways, but hadn’t that been their downfall? Only Kashyyyk had been willing to come to their aid when the Empire attacked.

Still, they’d seen the horrors of the Empire firsthand, as had the rest of the galaxy by now. Surely no one would stand for similar tyranny to ever arise again?

Zeb sighed and sat on the edge of the fountain, trailing his fingers through the water. “We’ll see what happens,” he said finally, a little morosely.

Hera watched him for a moment. “You know Jacen and I will always come visit when we can, right?”

“I know,” Zeb said, trying to force himself out of his morose frame of mind. “An’ we’ll visit you. We’ve got the _Glimmer_. Might be easier for us, since we aren’t military anymore.”

“What _are_ you going to do?” Hera asked. “Neither of you are the type to just sit around. You’ve been stir-crazy just sitting in the negotiations.”

“I haven’t,” Zeb protested, but the look Hera gave him made him relent. “Okay, so I have been. I’m not cut out for politics, never have been.”

“So what is there for two retired soldiers on Lasan?”

“I don’t know,” Zeb admitted. “I suppose I could work with the Honor Guard again. They’ve had a good teacher already, though, and I don’t want to submit to being a guardsman again. What if they wanted me to be in charge again?”

Hera laughed at the horrified expression on Zeb’s face. “You’d do it well, just like you did before.”

“I’d rather not,” Zeb said. He thought of Kallus and grimaced. “I don’t know what Kal wants. He’s good at a lot, but we haven’t talked about what he actually wants to do.”

Hera nodded. “It sounded to me like you didn’t get much chance to discuss anything before coming back here. You were too busy fighting for his life and his right to be there.”

“Yeah, guess we were.”

Kafzyr spoke up from a few meters over. “Garazeb, when do you think we can leave?”

Zeb looked up. “S’pose that depends on when Kal’s ready. The _Glimmer_ is his, not mine.”

“Let’s go find out,” Kafzyr said, motioning for Zeb to stand. “I’m ready to get off this planet.”

Hera put a hand on Zeb’s back. “Come on. Let’s go rescue Kallus from the kids and then we can talk about visiting again. It won’t be a permanent goodbye.”

“Better not be,” Zeb said, standing. “I wanna see the two of you on a regular basis. Sabine, too, if we can lure her away from Krownest and Lothal.”

He pulled Hera into a hug – a brief one, as he knew she wouldn’t appreciate a longer one in public – and smiled at her.

She smiled back sadly. “Sabine’s got her own mission. We all do. Doesn’t change that we’re still family. I’ll send Jacen to you if I can’t come regularly. He needs his uncles around.”

“We’d be glad to have him,” Zeb said, aware he was speaking for Kallus without checking first. Surely his mate wouldn’t object to Jacen visiting, though.

“Good.” Hera set off after Kafzyr and Zeb fell in step with her. “I’m holding you to that.”

Back at the hotel, Kallus was waiting with the kits. He looked exhausted, but not unhappy. Zeb greeted him with a kiss, which got a loud ‘ew!’ from Avi.

Zeb reached out and grabbed his _djedin_ ’s arm, tugging him close. “Bet you’ll change your mind about that someday,” he said, laughing.

“But that’s what _humans_ do!” Avi protested.

“An’ your _djadan_ Kal is human,” Zeb countered. “An’ _I’m_ tellin’ you it’s fun.”

Avi just made a face. Zeb couldn’t help but laugh.

“You fall in love with who you fall in love with, Avi,” he said. “Sometimes that person’s not the same species as you. Anyway, if you fall in love with someone, even if they’re a lasat, you’ll have to learn new things to live with them. Kissin’s just _one_ of the things I learned from Kal.”

“Okay, fine.” Avi pulled away from Zeb, looking over to where Kallus had started talking to Hera. “Still gross.”

Zeb laughed again and ruffled Avi’s fur. “Well, plan to be grossed out a lot when you’re with us,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ kissin’ your _djadan_.”

Kallus glanced back over at them, one eyebrow raised.

Zeb grinned back. He didn’t know _what_ they’d be doing back on Lasan or how they’d contribute to the new world, but he knew he’d be doing it with Kallus at his side.

And Zeb really couldn’t ask for more.


	16. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update this time!
> 
> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Amanketh – matriarch  
> Velenira - guide  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader

Breathing heavily, Kallus lay back in the bed pit, smiling when Zeb collapsed on top of him.

For the first time in what felt like a very long time, it didn’t hurt to breathe. Zeb’s weight didn’t press on open wounds or internal injuries. Kallus hated to admit it, but seeing the doctor on Chandrila had been the right thing to do.

He knew he probably ought to admit that to Zeb, but… the moment was too nice. Sated, languid, and happy, Kallus wrapped his arms around Zeb’s neck, holding his husband close.

Kallus couldn’t help but wonder what things would look like in a couple of days when the New Republic arrived. Kafzyr had asked Zeb to help in Ithdasira; Kallus wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be doing, but felt certain Kafzyr had something in mind for him as well.

Zeb mumbled something into Kallus’s neck, making him jerk away from the ticklish sensation. Zeb raised his head, grinning. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot.”

“You did?” Kallus arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget or did you do it on purpose?”

Zeb rested his chin on Kallus’s chest, grinning. “Forgot, really.”

Kallus stroked Zeb’s ears lightly, making them twitch and flutter. It was the closest thing he’d found to being able to tickle a lasat. “I’m sure you did,” he said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “What did you say? I’m afraid I missed it.”

“I asked what you were thinkin’.” Zeb blinked slowly, like a tooka, watching Kallus carefully.

“I was wondering how the reconstruction was going to go and what I’d do to help,” Kallus answered honestly. “You?”

“Mm,” Zeb hummed. “Thinkin’ about the way you look when you’re ridin’–”

“All right,” Kallus said, cutting him off. “I get the picture.”

Zeb laughed. “Just teasin’. I _was_ thinkin’ about you, though.”

“Well, now you’re going to make me feel full of myself because I wasn’t solely thinking of you.” Kallus gave Zeb’s ears a light tug and ran his hands down to cup his mate’s face, tangling his fingers in his facial hair.

“Nah,” Zeb said. “You were thinkin’ practical stuff. I was thinkin’ about Jacen and Avi, too.”

“Oh no,” Kallus said. “Are you going to get onto me for the pickpocketing incident too? You know that wasn’t my fault.”

Zeb shook his head slightly. “That was prob’ly good for the kids to see, actually. Good for them to know that not everyone in the New Republic is gonna help them.”

Kallus cocked his head, thinking. “Perhaps also that there’s still a lot of hurt in the galaxy even though the Empire is dying. People are still hungry and desperate, even on rich worlds like Chandrila.”

“Like you were.” Zeb’s tone was more of a statement than a question.

“Like I was,” Kallus confirmed. “Things didn’t really improve on Coruscant under the Empire, though they tried to convince us they had. If I didn’t hear from my sisters occasionally when I sent them money, I’d never have known how bad it was, even after they got out of Sah’c Town.”

Zeb was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to find out what happened to them?”

“It’s not safe,” Kallus said, almost a knee-jerk reaction. “Not until Coruscant is free of Imperial influence, which may be never.”

“Or it could be next year,” Zeb countered. “I found my family again; don’t you want to find yours?”

“Zeb,” sighed Kallus. “I love you dearly, but your relationship with your family was not mine. My younger sisters weren’t even six yet when I left. Our relationships were hardly foundational beyond me sending them part of my pay each month. And my mother…”

“Your mother was a piece of work,” said Zeb, with a little growl. “Makin’ you an’ your big sister do all that stuff.”

 _That stuff_. Pickpocketing and shoplifting, yes, but also hunting pest animals for bounties. Skipping school to make money so they could eat. Kallus resented it, somewhat, but he also knew she’d been trying to make the most of a bad situation.

Of course, the situation wouldn’t have been so bad if his parents hadn’t had four children. He’d never understood why they’d wanted to bring _four_ kids into the kind of life they were living. If he and Katya hadn’t been plucked up by the Republic Diplomatic School, they’d all still be rotting away in Sah’c Town, if they were still alive at all.

Kallus rubbed his eyes and wormed out from under Zeb’s warm weight, the pleasantness of the night gone. Crawling out of the bed pit, he made his way to the kitchen for some water.

A few moments after he poured a glass, he heard Zeb padding down the hall after him. Giving him a wide berth, Zeb leaned against the counter. “Sorry t’bring that up,” he said. “Shouldn’ta done that.”

“No,” Kallus said. “You were offering something you thought I wanted. I can’t fault you.”

Zeb scrutinized him in the dark, Kallus aware Zeb could see a lot better than he could. “You don’t want it? Or you don’t think you can have it?”

Kallus grimaced, not wanting to answer Zeb’s question. “You said you’d been thinking of Avi and Jacen. What about them?”

The look Zeb gave him let Kallus know he wasn’t off the hook, not by a long shot, but Zeb went along with his deflection for the moment. “War.”

Kallus waited a second, but Zeb didn’t elaborate. “War?”

“Yeah. Both of ‘em born in war. It’s all they know; Ezra an’ Sabine, too. But new kits? Won’t know war. Won’t remember it. An’ I think that’s kinda amazin’.”

“You do.” Kallus took another sip of water. “You realize both of us were born in peacetime and see how that turned out.”

“We were born when the Republic was dyin’. The New Republic is just bein’ born. Totally different,” Zeb argued. “What if the New Republic lasts as long as the old? Our kits could know only peace.”

Kallus froze. “ _Our_ _kits_?” He swallowed, suddenly even more stressed.

“Yeah,” Zeb said, taking a step closer. “Ours. More ‘n one. I think you’ve decided you want ‘em, you’re just too scared of ‘em to say it.”

“Garazeb, I am not _scared_ of kits,” Kallus argued.

“You are. You’re scared you won’t be any better to ‘em than your parents were with you.” Zeb pinned Kallus against the counter, one hand on either side of Kallus’s waist and face just centimeters from Kallus’s own. “But I saw you with Avi and Jacen. You’re _good_. Even Kafzyr thinks so.”

Kallus’s eyes widened. “ _Kafzyr_ thinks I’m good with Avi? I thought he just put up with me because of you.”

Zeb’s mouth twitched upward into a slight smile. “You’re sellin’ yourself short, Kal. Kafzyr saw the same thing I did. You’re better ‘n you think.”

Kallus stood stock-still there in the dark, with Zeb looming so closely, his mind racing.

It was true, he was afraid of being a bad parent. He was afraid someone would realize what he’d done in his past and take any kits away from him and Zeb, devastating his husband. He was afraid it would be a gross miscarriage of justice to let him have that sort of life. It was dangerous enough believing he could live a domestic life with just Zeb.

But Zeb wanted kits. He’d made that clear. He’d also made it clear he’d drop it if Kallus ever gave him a firm ‘no’, but Kallus hadn’t done that.

Why hadn’t he done that? Why had he spent so much time encouraging Zeb to convince him?

 _Because Zeb was right_.

Kallus wanted the domestic life with Zeb. He wanted to give Zeb the life he wanted and that included kits. Spending time with Avi and Jacen _had_ terrified him, but he’d done it. He hadn’t gotten either boy in trouble. Neither had they gotten hurt.

Maybe…

Maybe he could do it. _For_ Zeb and _with_ Zeb.

“All right,” he said quietly.

Zeb leaned back a bit. “What?”

“All right,” Kallus repeated, a little louder, a little more surely. “ _You’re_ right. I’m scared of being a father. But I also want that kind of future with you. If you want kits, I want them, too. I don’t know where you think we’ll find one that needs a home, but I’m willing to look.”

“Kal…” Zeb wrapped his hands around Kallus’s waist. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t,” Kallus pointed out. “I don’t lie to you, Zeb.”

Zeb nodded, quiet for a few moments. He tugged on Kallus’s waist, pulling him in. Kallus expected to be met with a kiss or a scenting, but Zeb just held Kallus close, one hand on the back of his neck.

It took a few moments for Kallus’s brain to catch up: _a hug. This is a hug_. He couldn’t quite wrap his arms all the way around Zeb’s broad chest, but he tried. He was tense, he knew, still fretting, still worrying, but the warmth and smell and feel of Zeb surrounding him was calming and soon Kallus relaxed into Zeb’s embrace.

There, in the quiet and safety of their little house, Kallus began to believe they could do it. They could be parents.

“Y’know,” Zeb said. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

Kallus couldn’t help but laugh, clinging all the tighter to Zeb. “I suppose we’ll need to move to Ithdasira. Or take over a house here from someone who moved to Ithdasira.”

“Maybe.” Zeb’s voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against Kallus’s. “I’m happy wherever you are. Even if that’s not here.”

Kallus pulled away so he could see Zeb’s face and ears. From the set of them, Zeb was being deadly serious. “Zeb, we did all this so you could live here again.”

“No, we did all this to find out what happened to the Imperial garrison. I want you to be comfortable wherever we are, even if that means we don’t live here,” Zeb corrected.

Kallus leaned his forehead against Zeb’s, eyes closed and thinking of all the other places they could live.

None of them seemed right. What planet would want _him_?

Lira San and Lasan, it seemed. The two planets who ought to turn him away.

“Unless _you_ want to leave, we’re staying,” Kallus said firmly. “We’ll make a home here, together.” _Somehow_.

Zeb leaned in the few centimeters to kiss Kallus on the nose. “Okay,” he said. “But you tell me if you change your mind on any of it.”

Kallus gave a half-grin. “Don’t trust my word?”

Zeb chuckled. “I trust you mean it now. But it’s the middle of the night and we just finished makin’ love. I don’t want you to say somethin’ you regret in the mornin’ because you feel good now.”

Kallus rubbed his thumbs through Zeb’s fur. He didn’t think he’d change his mind, but it was nice that Zeb was willing to give him the out later. “I love you,” he said, nuzzling into the side of Zeb’s face.

Zeb scented him gently. “I love _you_ ,” he said. “But let’s go back to bed?”

Laughing softly, Kallus nodded. “Lead the way.”

They settled back into the bed pit, a blanket pulled over them both to stave off the coming autumn chill. Kallus sighed happily.

Sometimes it was hard to believe they weren’t fighting anymore. That they weren’t going to be separated by missions. That he actually _got_ to spend his nights with Zeb instead of just staying up late drinking with him. That he’d wake up and find it was all a dream.

And then there were nights like this one, where he felt protected and secure in Zeb’s arms and in the knowledge that Zeb would be there in the mornings for the rest of his life. With luck, there would start to be more of these nights and not the other kind.

Kallus snuggled back against Zeb and drifted off to a safe sleep.

* * *

Velencia was full of lasat, town elders from the hidden enclaves of survivors all around the continent. Zeb didn’t know any of them, but plenty recognized him: some as Kafzyr’s brother, but most as the Captain of the High Honor Guard.

Zeb answered what questions he could – did he plan to return to the Honor Guard? – and deflected the ones he was less sure of – did he know exactly what Kafzyr had planned? 

He knew Kafzyr wanted to have a vote for family to lead the others, for an _amanketh_ to be a _velenira_. He wasn’t sure which matriarch would be selected, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Vashtyr and Kafzyr’s family. Of course, all that assumed the other leaders _agreed_ to a vote. There was every chance they’d reject the idea, as they’d never had a republican form of government before.

“I want you there,” Kafzyr had said. “I want someone they can trust who’s seen what’s going on in the galaxy.”

It made sense when Kafzyr said it, but as the time grew close for the conclave, Zeb second-guessed his involvement.

It would be a meeting full of Kafzyrs. Full of lasat who wouldn’t appreciate his choice of mate and might distrust him because of it. Full of lasat who wouldn’t trust the New Republic and might decide to reject the help they so desperately needed.

Well, _needed_ in Zeb’s opinion.

As the elders gathered, Zeb stood with Chaftin, behind Kafzyr, back in one of his Rebellion battlesuits, bo-rifle on his back and arms crossed. It wasn’t an Honor Guard pose, but it was a Rebel one. He and Kafzyr had agreed that emphasizing his off-world experience would only help Kafzyr’s arguments.

One by one, the elders threw sticks on the fire, then carefully arrayed themselves on the benches of the meeting place. They fell silent, looking up at Kafzyr.

Kafzyr added his own stick on the fire, which crackled and popped in the evening light. “We are here because the Empire is not,” he started. “Last our villages met, we attacked and killed the Imperials left on Lasan. Since then, we’ve learned that the Empire is falling and a New Republic has risen in its stead. My brother, Garazeb Orrelios, former Captain of the High Honor Guard, arrived with that news.”

Zeb nodded, but said nothing. It wasn’t his turn just yet. 

Kafzyr continued. “He’s taken me to the capital of this New Republic – Chandrila, not Coruscant – and the new government offered us help.”

“What kind of help?” called out one of the elders. “The same kind of help humans gave us when the Empire attacked?”

Pushing down a snarl, Zeb gripped his arms tighter, holding back a retort. Telling the elders that humans were as tricked and hurt by the Empire as lasat had been wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Construction droids. Engineers. Money. Medicine. All the things we need to rebuild our cities,” Kafzyr said.

The elders murmured among themselves. “What’s the catch?”

“None, at first,” Kafzyr said. “They ask that we consider taking in refugees from other planets devastated by the Empire, but their assistance isn’t contingent on our acceptance.”

“Right,” snorted another elder. “They just want us to open ourselves up to a final genocide.”

Kafzyr glanced back at Zeb, who recognized his cue. “Lasat are thriving in the galaxy,” he said loudly, “on the planet Lira San.”

Laughter bubbled up from the group. “Lira San isn’t real.”

“It is,” Zeb said. “I didn’t used to believe in it either, but I’ve been there. I _lived_ there. It’s not Lasan; the languages are different, as are the customs, but there are lasat and plenty of ‘em.”

A woman stood, staring Zeb down. “You’ve been off-planet this whole time. Why should we trust your honor when you left us all to die, _Captain_?”

Chaftin growled. “You will _not_ challenge the honor of an Honor Guard Captain!” she said fiercely.

Zeb put a hand out, stopping her. “It’s true, I left,” he said. “I came to after the bombing of the palace and escaped with the few lasat I saw alive. I thought everyone else was dead or I’d’ve come back.”

It was obvious he needed to elaborate; not everyone seemed satisfied with what he’d said.

“I’ve been fightin’ in the Rebellion against the Empire, the group that is now the New Republic,” he explained. “Along the way, I met _Arkesana_ Chava and found myself fulfilling the prophecy to find Lira San. Any lasat I’ve found out in the galaxy, I’ve sent to Lira San where they can be safe. If I’d had any idea that lasat survived on Lasan, I would’ve brought the whole Rebellion down on the Imperial garrison here.”

A young teenager spoke up – Zeb recognized her as Kafzyr’s student Mailira – her voice gentle but strong enough to be heard over the others. “The Ashla showed the truth of his words,” she said. “Ask the elders of Velencia. They told me what they saw.”

Kafzyr nodded approvingly at her, a silent _thank you_.

Zeb felt compelled to keep talking. “Anyone who wants, my mate and I’ll take you to Lira San. But the New Republic wants Lasan to live again.”

“Do we have to join their Republic?” asked someone, though with a little less uncertainty in their voice than others before.

Kafzyr shook his head. “No. We’re invited to, but we don’t have to. Lasan’s future is its own.” He looked around. “Unless I send word back tonight, the New Republic’s assistance will arrive in two days. Construction droids and engineers, like I said, for all the major cities. Food and medicine and money for all. It was an offer I couldn’t say no to.”

Zeb recognized that the talk was going to go in circles for a bit, so he stepped back and zoned out, perking up only when he heard Kafzyr talking about voting.

Looking at the crowd, the suggestion was a contentious one, but Zeb had expected that. It went against their history, but they were _supposed_ to start a new history, weren’t they?

To Zeb’s surprise, Vashtyr stood and began arguing for the proposed new government. She was eloquent, spinning a tale of a new Lasan, a Lasan that didn’t forget the past but moved into the future bravely. She didn’t give support one way or the other for the idea of joining the New Republic, which Zeb thought was a wise move.

Slowly, he could see the elders start to come around. Zeb smiled, watching his sister-in-law appreciatively.

“ _Velenira_ ,” she explained. “A guide for us, not a queen. Someone to provide leadership and wisdom, but not replacing the Queens of the past.”

“How do we take the vote?” asked one of the elders.

Mailira stood. “I will count, as I cannot be in the running. I have no desire to be anything but an _Arkesana_.”

“I will count, as well,” said Chaftin. “I won’t be stepping down from being Captain.”

Zeb and Kafzyr worked together to hand out slips of flimsi and styluses, and then took a step back to watch.

Mailira went through the crowd, collecting the votes in a pot and then she disappeared into Chaftin’s house to count the votes.

Zeb stood, arms still crossed, feeling a little anxious. What would be the outcome? He didn’t know the people of Lasan anymore, so he didn’t know which _amanketh_ would be the wisest leader. He just had to trust that the elders knew.

Vashtyr and Kafzyr were discussing a late night meal for all the elders when Chaftin and Mailira emerged again. Chaftin was her usual resolute self, but Mailira was beaming.

 _How do I interpret that_?

Kafzyr motioned for Mailira to come back to the front. She held a larger piece of flimsi with many tally marks on it.

“What is the count, Mailira?” Kafzyr asked.

“Well,” Mailira started. She listed off some family names that Zeb was vaguely familiar with, followed by a tally count, none of them very high for a group of the gathered size. “But the clear winner is Vashtyr Sarrvios.”

Zeb’s gaze immediately shot to Vashtyr, who was frozen in place. He wished he could see her face.

After a moment, Vashtyr bowed her head. “If it is the wish of the elders,” she said quietly. “I will serve.”

Chaftin stepped forward. “The Honor Guard is at your command, _Velenira_ Vashtyr,” she said. “And I am here for counsel, if you wish.”

Vashtyr turned and smiled. “I fear I will need your counsel, Chaftin,” she said.

“What does the _Velenira_ think we should do about the New Republic?” called a voice from the back.

Vashtyr stood up a little straighter. “We accept their help, assess their genuine intentions. Then, when our cities are rebuilt and our people are fed and healthy, we vote again. I would not lead us into an alliance with the New Republic without the support of all Lasan.”

Zeb grinned. Vashtyr was already proving why she’d been elected. She was brave enough to take initiative, but respectful of others. If it weren’t for Kafzyr and Mailira, she might have been a good replacement for Chava.

Watching her grow into the role of _Velenira_ would be quite the sight, Zeb thought. But even more than that, he looked forward to seeing Kallus’s face when he learned they were now pseudo-royalty by marriage.

If rank came to them with that, Kallus would carry it well. He already had aristocratic features, for a human at least. Or at least that’s how Sabine had described him once, years ago.

Vashtyr glanced back at Zeb, who gave her a smile and a nod.

It was good to have a _Velenira_ to follow. It was long past time for Lasan to be a matriarchy again.

Zeb put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or commiserate with you,” he said.

Kafzyr had a fond grin on his face. “She’ll do well. I just worry for Avi’s sake.”

“Avi will prob’ly do better than you will,” Zeb pointed out. “Tell me true, though: will Kal and I cause trouble for you?”

Kafzyr eyed Zeb. “Do you plan to?”

“No, I meant him being human. If you want, we can go to another city or another planet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vashtyr said. “You’re family, both of you. The vote is done and our family will be _Veleniras_ for all, Kal included.”

Zeb breathed a sigh of relief. He’d hoped that would be the answer. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Go find your mate. Tonight might be your last quiet night for a while. Take advantage of it.”

“I will,” Zeb promised. “You, too.”

He started off, but Vashtyr called after him again. He turned, curious.

“Thank _you_ ,” she said. “For coming to us. For convincing us to get help. For not leaving as soon as you got here.”

“Vashtyr,” Zeb said. “I will always be grateful we came here. Even if your mate shot mine. If it weren’t for Kafzyr being blockheaded, Kal wouldn’t _be_ my mate.”

It was true, he reflected as he walked through the dark village. Kafzyr had been the catalyst to their mating. Maybe bringing Lasan back to civilization was enough of a thanks.

Now he just had to hope no other elders decided they needed to test Kallus. Or shoot him.

No, Vashtyr would shut that down. Being the _Velenira_ ’s brother-in-law might be a good thing, after all.

Zeb would just have to wait and see.


	17. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this shorter chapter a day earlier than I should just to beat the mini-bang rush!
> 
> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader  
> Djadan – uncle  
> Viri – friend  
> Velenira – guide

Construction droids plowed through the rubble of the palace, chewing up raw materials and resynthesizing them into duracrete, leaving carefully plotted walls in their wake.

The new palace didn’t look _exactly_ like the old palace. It was laid out the same, governmental rooms in one wing, residential apartments in another, but it lacked the grace and beauty of the old palace. Perhaps someday, Lasan would decorate the building with the missing wood carvings and reliefs, plant the gardens and hook up the fountains, but that would be years down the line, probably.

Zeb stood next to Chaftin, watching the droids work. It was slow business and the day wasn’t a pleasant one, overcast and chilly, but the two of them remembered the palace the best.

At least, Zeb recalled the layout of the palace. He found he had trouble remembering the young princes and princesses that used to play in those walls. Whose graves were underneath all that rubble.

It was the same issue he had with the Honor Guard barracks; next on the list to rebuild. He’d worked so hard to forget everything about life on Lasan and he’d been largely successful. It was a coping mechanism that got him through the horrible first few years and then the war itself, but it bothered him now.

He _wanted_ to remember. He _wanted_ to honor those who had died. But the memories were mist in his mind, only seen obliquely, almost transparent. It felt like he could grasp onto them if he tried, but he was never able to.

Zeb didn’t mention any of that to Chaftin as they oversaw the rebuilding of the palace. She didn’t need to know of his dishonor toward the victims of the Empire.

Vashtyr picked her way through the ruins toward them. “It’s not the same, is it?” she said sadly.

“Someday,” Chaftin said. “Someday Ithdasira will be more than duracrete again.”

Zeb glanced at his sister-in-law. She seemed tired. “I thought you were helping with the temple,” he said.

“I was. I’m here now.” Vashtyr gave them both a smile. “Trying to be everywhere at once and check in with everyone.”

Zeb was briefly tempted to tell her not to overdo it, but he didn’t want it to come across as condescending. Kafzyr was the only one who really had the right to tell her to slow down and he knew Vashtyr was aware of her own limits. It was better for Zeb to stay out of it.

Looking back at the construction droids, he brought up something he’d been meaning to ask, instead. “Are you moving into the palace? Or will it only be a meeting place?”

Vashtyr was quiet for a moment. “I think we’ll move in. Living there is mostly symbolic, but I think it’d be good for Lasan to have the palace occupied again.”

“Someone to look to and believe in,” Chaftin agreed.

Vashtyr nodded. “I can only try.”

Zeb watched her fiddle with a necklace – _that’s new_ , he thought – and realized it was a piece of kyber. “Where did you get that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Vashtyr glanced at the clear crystal. “There weren’t many kyber staffs that survived the Imperial attack,” she said. “Kafzyr broke up the crystals on the remaining ones and distributed them to the surviving _Arkesanas_ and elders.”

That made sense, but was also a little troublesome. Zeb hadn’t seen _any_ of the elders wearing kyber jewelry, nor Kafzyr himself. Then again… “I thought Kafzyr rejected the Ashla.”

“He distrusts it, to be sure,” Vashtyr agreed. “Others of us, not so much. I aim to bring the Ashla’s blessing back to Lasan, where it belongs.”

Chaftin nodded approvingly. “Your arrival brought us many changes, Garazeb, but good ones, I believe. The new Lasan will be a strong one.”

Zeb shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn’t change anything on purpose, though. I just thought we’d find an abandoned Imperial base. Never dreamed I’d find you all.”

“You know,” Vashtyr said after a moment, “You and Kal are welcome to live in the palace as well. You _are_ family.”

Zeb felt a stab of dread. He couldn’t live in the palace, not with all the ghosts that lived there and in his head. “Nah,” he said, as politely as he could manage. “I don’t think we will. We, uh, will probably want a place of our own with a few bedrooms.”

Vashtyr smiled. “A few bedrooms? Did you agree on adopting kits?”

“Yeah.” Zeb returned the smile. “Kal hasn’t changed his mind on it yet, at least.”

“That’s good,” Vashtyr said. “When?”

Zeb laughed a little nervously. “Well, I don’t think we wanna wait too long, but we wanna wait _some_ , y’know? Have some time to ourselves.”

Both women nodded agreeably. “Of course,” Vashtyr said. “Have you decided where you’re adopting from?”

Zeb scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t really discussed that one. I guess we’ll go through the New Republic. There’s lotsa kids without family ‘cause of the war.”

“I would imagine,” Vashtyr said. “All those worlds they said were ravaged, just like ours.”

“Not just ravaged,” Zeb said. “ _Gone_. Jedha and Scarif are completely uninhabitable and Alderaan is nothing but space trash now. We were lucky the Empire hadn’t finished the Death Star when they attacked us.”

Chaftin raised an eyebrow. “They really called it the Death Star or was that the Rebel name for it?”

“Really. I think Kal said the full name was Death Star Orbital Battle Station or something like that, but that’s still _Death Star_.” Zeb shook his head. “At that point, it was like the Empire quit trying to hide behind the excuse of peace and justice. Dunno why more planets didn’t jump ship after we knocked out the first one.”

“Scared of the second one, I would imagine,” Chaftin said. “The Empire would never stop with just one.”

“They wouldn’t and they didn’t,” Zeb agreed. “Got that second one built a lot quicker than the first one, too.”

“Thank you,” Vashtyr said.

Zeb looked at her curiously. “For what?”

“For fighting the Empire. You didn’t give up even when they made these Death Stars. It would’ve been easy to run then.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Zeb shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

“But as you just said, not everyone did it,” Vashtyr pointed out.

The conversation had quickly taken a turn into territory Zeb didn’t want to cover. He wouldn’t mind people thanking Hera for what she did, or Kallus with his _Glimmer_ crew. They got actual stuff done. Zeb was just the muscle, wasn’t he?

He sighed. Kallus would get onto him for saying that, even if it was true. Seeking to change the topic, Zeb asked, “How is the rest of Ithdasira coming? Or have you just seen the temple and here?”

“No, this is my last stop before I return to the temple,” Vashtyr said, though she gave Zeb a knowing look. “It’s slow work, but there are enough people in Velencia who remember the city. They’re having to guess on the layout of most homes, but the New Republic engineers are figuring out the best floor plans for the spaces allotted.”

With how few Ithdasira survivors there were, it was a wonder they were able to lay out the city as well as they had, Zeb mused. It was a sizeable city, certainly the largest on the planet if not in the galaxy, and the survivors numbered barely one percent of the original population. 

Looking around the palace grounds, Vashtyr nodded. “The palace is in capable hands with you two,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it and get back to the temple.”

“Yeah,” Zeb chuckled. “Someone has to make sure Kafzyr isn’t messing things up.”

Vashtyr smacked him in the arm, but she smiled before heading off.

As Zeb and Chaftin watched her leave, they were interrupted by one of the New Republic engineers, a devaronian that reminded Zeb a little too much of Vizago. “We’re going to start on the Honor Guard barracks tomorrow,” he said. “If you want to get anything out of there before the droids get to it, this is your chance.”

Chaftin looked at Zeb, who nodded. “We’ll do that,” Zeb said, gesturing for Chaftin to follow him.

The walk to the old barracks didn’t take long. Nothing had changed from the day Zeb visited with Avi, but Zeb felt different standing in the middle with Chaftin. Maybe it was knowing the barracks were going to be used again. Maybe then, seeing Chaftin lead the new Honor Guard in the place of the old, he’d finally be able to let go of the guilt he carried.

Zeb could stand to let go of some of that.

Chaftin walked around the half-standing rooms, sticking her head in each one.

“Finding anything?” Zeb asked, trailing behind her. 

“Not yet,” she said. “Most of these rooms are in pretty bad shape.”

“Yeah…” Zeb looked around sadly. “I already checked the weapons lockers last time I was here.”

Chaftin stopped in a door, gesturing for Zeb to follow her. “Got something.”

Zeb poked his head into the room. Like his old room, the elements hadn’t been kind to the bits of furniture that survived the roof’s collapse. “What’d you find?”

“Chest,” Chaftin said. “Looks like it’s wedged under these slabs. Help me move them.”

Zeb saw where she meant; a chest was barely visible under the roof rubble, but it was there and looked to be whole. Straining, he pulled at the largest slab, freeing the chest just enough that Chaftin could pull it out.

She carried it out of the room, back into the relative sunlight. The chest wasn’t locked; none of the Guards had locked their belongings from each other.

Lifting the lid, Zeb found clothes, as he expected, and other basic necessities, but then there was–

Huh.

* * *

The forest was dark, gray clouds roiling overhead. Kallus wouldn’t be surprised if it started raining. He hoped it didn’t, for the sake of the construction in Ithdasira, but weather didn’t always cooperate.

“ _Djadan_?”

Kallus looked down to see Avi, his now ever-present MSE droid at his heels. “Yes?” he asked, curious why the kit sounded so excited.

“Look,” Avi instructed proudly. “I fixed Viri’s wheel! Viri, show him!”

The little droid skittered in a large circle on the main platform of Velencia, demonstrating its lack of a squeaky, wobbly wheel.

Eyebrows raised, Kallus had to admit he was impressed. “I thought we were going to work on that today,” he said, crossing his arms but smiling.

“I figured it out!” Avi beamed.

“Good job,” Kallus said, daring to reach out and pat Avi on the shoulder. It was a big step for him, even if Avi had no clue.

Ever since Zeb had come home and told him the results of the vote, Kallus had been on edge. Vashtyr, Kafzyr, and Avi weren’t quite new royalty, but they were certainly the most powerful family on Lasan. And, by extension, so were he and Zeb.

That was the bit that made Kallus nervous. Bad enough that Zeb had been Captain of the Honor Guard, bad enough he was the brother of the head _Arkesana_ , but now he was the brother-in-law of the _Velenira_. Zeb should be a model lasat, but he’d mated Kallus, an _ex-Imperial_ _human_. The last thing Kallus wanted to do was to damage anyone’s credibility simply by being there.

At first, Kallus had pulled back, staying in their house while Zeb went to Ithdasira. Avi had soon asked for his help, though, and he couldn’t say no. And surprisingly, Kallus felt somewhat comfortable around Avi. The kit no longer seemed to care that he was human. All he wanted was someone to pay attention to him while his parents were busy.

Kallus could do that much, at least. “What are you working on next?” he asked.

Avi shrugged, crouching down to pat the droid like it was a pet. “I dunno.”

Kallus thought for a moment. “Have you taught the droid the layout of Velencia yet? That’s not something we can program in yet.”

“No,” Avi said. “What do we do? Just walk it around?”

“That’s right.” Kallus knelt in front of the little droid, noting all the little dings and scrapes he hadn’t been able to buff out. Maybe Avi could paint the droid, since it didn’t have to be standard Imperial colors anymore. “Let’s go walk around and you tell Viri what everything is. That way you can give it instructions and say, ‘take this note to so-and-so’ and it’ll know where to go.”

Avi considered Kallus’s proposal and seemed to find it an interesting enough way to spend his afternoon.

They walked the perimeter of the main platform, up and down the market aisles, and through all the public areas, Avi chattering to the droid the whole way.

Kallus lost focus, paying more attention to the goods available in the market stalls than to Avi. He wondered if the inevitable influx of off-world goods would damage or bolster the economy already existing on Lasan. Would lasats be able to gain control of the off-world import businesses or would they be invaded again, this time by merchants? Was it too late to worry about that?

It wasn’t Kallus’s place to worry, but it _was_ Vashtyr’s. Should he talk to her about ways to avoid an influx of nonlasats - and how ironic would _that_ be? – or simply trust that the new _Velenira_ had things in hand? Should he–

“Kal?”

Kallus pulled up short, jerked from his thoughts. He turned back and saw that Avi had stopped to talk to Tarkorra and he hadn’t noticed. “Apologies,” he said, taking a few steps toward Tarkorra. “I was thinking.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope,” Tarkorra said. “Avirinkar was just showing me Viri.”

Kallus smiled. “He did well with the droid.”

Avi shifted from foot to foot impatiently, watching Viri skitter across the walkway.

“Go finish up with Viri,” Kallus said. “You don’t need me for that.”

“Okay!” Avi eagerly ran off after his droid.

“I haven’t seen you since you got back from Chandrila,” Tarkorra said. “Did you go to a medcenter there?”

“I did, albeit reluctantly,” Kallus admitted. “I appear to be fully healed, although they did say that lung might always be a little weak.”

“Yeah, it probably will be.” She glanced down at his chest as if she was eager to give him a checkup. Kallus wasn’t going to volunteer, however. 

“Has anyone from the New Republic gotten in touch with you?” he asked. “I believe Zeb gave them your name to coordinate the medical supply distribution.”

Tarkorra’s smile widened. “Yes, actually. We’re supposed to get a shipment of bacta in tomorrow and then as soon as power is restored to Ithdasira, they’ll deliver some diagnostic machines, droids and bacta tanks.”

“Good. That’s good,” Kallus said. “I imagine you’ll be glad to have the help.”

She shrugged. “As long as they send someone to teach me how to _use_ the machines,” she said. “It’ll be like starting over otherwise.”

Kallus nodded, glancing around the market for a sign of Avi.

“What about you?” she asked. “What are you and Garazeb going to do?”

“What?” Kallus frowned, mind catching back up to the conversation. “I think we’re going to move into Ithdasira when it’s ready. That’s what we’ve discussed at least.”

“And what are you going to do there?” Tarkorra pressed. “You haven’t had much time to settle in here, I know, but if you’re going to stay in Ithdasira…”

“We need something to do, I know.” Kallus and Zeb had tossed around a few ideas since Chandrila, only a couple of them sticking. A droid repair shop, for one, once household and professional droids started arriving on the planet again. Right now, they were leaning towards talking with Chaftin about opening a small academy for lasat youth to teach them Honor Guard skills and values.

It all depended on where there was a need, he supposed. 

“I’m not sure,” Kallus said truthfully. “I’m planning to let Zeb make that final decision. He’ll know best where we can both fit in.”

“Possibly,” Tarkorra said. “Or he may be as lost as you are.”

Kallus grimaced. He didn’t want to think about that. “I’m trying to do what I can to help him feel comfortable.”

Tarkorra hesitated, watching him closely. “I know a lot’s happened, but do you remember before Avi outed you two, you had talked to Vashtyr about learning more about Lasana culture?”

“I’ve had a crash course since then,” Kallus pointed out. 

“Of some things,” Tarkorra countered. “Not everything.”

“Oh?” Kallus arched an eyebrow. “What am I missing?”

She smiled. “Come with me and we’ll figure it out. Avirinkar will be fine on his own.”

Kallus followed Tarkorra back to her clinic, where they sat and talked, breaking only when a patient came in.

Tarkorra spoke of customs and traditions, of mythology and lore, of festival week and Life Day, a holiday adopted from their wookiee allies. Some of these things, Kallus knew, whether it be from his own research, his talks with refugees on Lira San, or from Zeb himself. 

A lot of it, however, was new, and he wished he had a datapad to take notes on.

Next time, perhaps. Right then, he checked his chrono and realized Zeb would be heading home soon and he hadn’t picked up anything for Zeb to cook for dinner. Kallus was paying attention, and could cook some desserts and sides, but he hadn’t attempted a full meal by himself. Perhaps it was time.

Enlisting Tarkorra’s further help, Kallus memorized a simple recipe for keedee, domesticated birds that had been brought to the planet centuries ago. Really, they’d been brought to nearly every planet with a decent atmosphere; their meat was ubiquitous across the galaxy. They’d had it plenty in the Rebellion because it was cheap, easy to source, and hard for the Empire to pin down which shipments of keedee meat was going to the Rebellion and which was going to a Core or Outer Rim planet that needed to import foodstuffs.

Armed with new knowledge, Kallus swept through the market quickly, buying ingredients, and hustled back up to their house.

When Zeb trudged through the door, Kallus was just dropping the battered strips of meat into hot oil in a pan.

Zeb paused just inside the front room. “You’re cooking?”

“I am.” Kallus frowned. Zeb didn’t seem his usual self. Then again, he’d only been home a minute; perhaps Kallus was misreading things. “I thought I’d give it a try.”

Zeb nodded slowly. “That’s good,” he said dully.

No, Kallus wasn’t misreading things. Something was wrong. Unfortunately, he couldn’t go to his husband to comfort him and find out what was going on lest he burn their dinner. “Sit,” he instructed instead. “This is almost finished anyway.”

Zeb complied, watching Kallus as he tried to clean up the kitchen a little before serving dinner. 

Kallus was willing to cook sometimes and help keep the house because it had to be done, just as he had done as part of the _Glimmer_ ’s crew, but that didn’t mean he was any talented at those things. His temperament was all wrong to be a regular househusband, which was probably good because none of his painstakingly honed skillsets were domestic, either. But then again, neither were Zeb’s. 

Plating the fried keedee and mashed tubers, Kallus handed one to Zeb before settling into the seat next to him. “My apologies if it’s spiced wrong,” he said. “I only took a few minutes in memorizing the recipe.”

Zeb’s mouth twitched into the shadow of a smile. “‘Only a few minutes,’ huh?”

“Well, you do realize,” Kallus said, “my memory can handle only so much and I spent the afternoon with Avi and Tarkorra, trying to learn.”

“Memories are like that,” Zeb said, taking a bite of the keedee. He coughed, eyes going wide for a moment.

“Sithspit,” Kallus swore. “I _did_ get it wrong.” 

“No, no,” Zeb said. “Just… a _little_ ground namona goes a long way.”

“I apologize,” Kallus said, reaching for Zeb’s plate. “Do you want me to–?”

Kallus nodded, keeping an eye on Zeb. What he said _sounded_ right if Kallus ignored the tone.. The tone was worrisome; it was the same bland tone Zeb had used back on Lira San, when he was getting depressed.

Placing a hand on top of Zeb’s, Kallus asked, “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” Zeb said quickly.

Kallus didn’t move. Zeb was obviously lying. He’d give in eventually.

Zeb met Kallus’s gaze, holding it for almost a full – and very awkward – minute.

Kallus won the staring contest, Zeb breaking and looking away first. 

“Okay,” Zeb said. “We found somethin’ at the barracks today, me and Chaftin.”

The barracks? “I thought you and Avi picked through those?”

Zeb shrugged. “We did a few rooms, looking for the training staffs. But this time, Chaftin and I were lookin’ for personal stuff.”

“What did you find?” Kallus asked, trying to keep Zeb talking.

Zeb shook his head. “I was having trouble remembering them all, right?”

Kallus nodded. “I recall. You said the memories were just out of reach.”

“Yeah.” Zeb reached down and unclasped one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out a small holo projector, the type people kept images and short videos on, small enough for a pocket or purse. “Well, we found this.”

“Holos?”

“Holos,” Zeb confirmed. “Rankinyl was one of the youngest Guards, eager to be there. He took holos of _everything_.”

“So you found his belongings?” Kallus asked.

Zeb grimaced. “I’d forgotten him. I’d forgotten his face. If we hadn’t found this, I wouldn’t remember him. But the amazing thing is–”

Kallus held his breath, waiting for Zeb to continue.

“I remember the others in the holos. I recognize myself and I _remember_ being the Captain in these holos.”

Pushing aside his plate – Zeb was right, he’d been way too heavy-handed with the namona – Kallus placed his hand on Zeb’s arm. “May I see them?”

In lieu of words, Zeb thumbed the switch on the projector’s base. A short holovid played out, showing two Guards sparring without bo-rifles.

Zeb flipped through the holos, stopping to let Kallus see each one.

It was amazing, Kallus thought. He’d never gotten to see the Honor Guard as they should have been seen: resplendent in their uniforms, talented with their weapons. He’d fought one, Djen Olus – a name he wouldn’t forget – but Olus had hardly been at his best.

And even more amazing to witness was younger Zeb, cocky and proud and terribly skilled with both functions of his bo-rifle, and worthy of the deference of the other Guards.

Kallus wanted to see more.

“Tell me what you remember,” he prompted. “Maybe it’ll help unlock more memories if you talk about them.”

Zeb did, identifying every Guard in every holo, listing their skills and time with the Honor Guard. As he spoke, he became more animated, becoming the Zeb of recent days, not the Zeb of Lira San.

Kallus couldn’t be happier for his husband. He rubbed the fur of Zeb’s arms encouragingly.

Zeb paused his recollections and smiled softly. “It’s not everyone,” he said. “But it’s a start.”

“It’s a very good start,” Kallus agreed. He stood, placing a gentle kiss on Zeb’s forehead, and reached for his plate.

Zeb dropped the smile and pulled the plate out of Kallus’s grasp. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t make it correctly,” Kallus pointed out. “You don’t want to eat that.”

“Maybe I do,” he said, sliding the plate back in front of him. “You’re learning.”

“You shouldn’t suffer for my mistakes,” Kallus said. “You’ve done enough of that already.”

Zeb put a hand on Kallus’s shoulder, right over the mating mark, and slowly guided him back into his seat. “You’re learning,” he repeated. “And it’s a very good start.”

Warmth flooded through Kallus as Zeb used his own words against him. “All right,” he agreed. “Just this once.”

“Kal,” Zeb sighed. “It’s okay if you’re not the greatest cook. I’m not either, but once Ithdasira is finished, I’m sure we’ll see restaurants move in from off-world, maybe some from people here. We’re not gonna die ‘cause you over-spiced the keedee.”

“I don’t know that,” Kallus said, attempting to tease. “I could be poisoning you without knowing it.”

“ _I’d_ know it,” Zeb said. “So quit worryin’. I don’t love you any less for messin’ up dinner.”

“Only if you allow me to make it up to you later,” Kallus said, purposefully putting on a very proper façade, knowing how Zeb would interpret it.

Zeb laughed. “As long as I get to wipe that look off your face,” he said, reaching out and chuffing Kallus’s chin. “We’ll both enjoy that.”

Kallus pursed his mouth in faux-disapproval, but he slowly morphed into a smile as Zeb studied him with open lust.

Oh yes. They’d both enjoy that.


	18. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Zami/zaman – grandmother  
> Velenira – guide  
> Adan – father

Ithdasira looked like a city once again, Kallus was glad to see.

It’d been two months of constant construction and exhausting work. As each part of the city was completed, lasat from the nearest settlements moved into their old homes and businesses – or at least their old neighborhoods. Deeds were drawn up and given to the residents as they settled in. From across the New Republic, donations poured in: food, clothing, supplies, and credits, among other things.

Kallus hadn’t ever seen anything like it; something like this would never have happened under the Empire. The city – the _planet_ – was coming back to life, but it was still so delicate. The lasat, who’d been self-sufficient for so many years, found themselves reliant on others in order to be on equal footing with the rest of the galaxy. Some lasat were grateful for the help. For others, it stung.

Showing what Kallus had come to learn was classic Orrelios obstinance, both Zeb and Kafzyr chafed at Lasan needing so much help, even though they’d both been instrumental in arranging for it in the first place.

“You _wanted_ this,” Kallus pointed out as he and Zeb unpacked into the roomy row house they’d picked out for themselves. “You _wanted_ everyone to get assistance.”

“Yeah,” Zeb said, and Kallus could see his fur ruffling in discontent. “But I didn’t think it’d feel so bad. Don’t like people lookin’ down on us.”

Kallus reached out and stopped Zeb from walking by. Pulling him close, Kallus rubbed fingers through the fur on his neck, running them over the smooth mating scar placed there. “Helping someone doesn’t mean you look down on them and you know that. You never looked down on the people you and the Spectres broke through blockades for, did you? You delivered so much food and medicine to those in need that it’s only fitting your people are receiving the same thing now.”

Zeb grumbled, one hand wrapping around Kallus’s and holding it close to his chest. “I know.”

“You’d have no problem giving the same help to Jedhans or Alderaanians. Lasan suffered catastrophe, as well.”

“Catastrophe’s a nice way to put it.”

Kallus frowned. Zeb was right, but the terminology wasn’t the point. “Whatever term you want to use, Lasan deserves to be helped. And people are helping of their own free will.”

“You’re right,” Zeb sighed. “Still feels like we should be doing this on our own.”

“Now you sound like me.” Kallus pulled away from Zeb, turning back to where he was installing the waffle maker from the _Glimmer_ for Zeb’s everyday use. “Just think of what you tell me when I avoid medical care or try to overwork myself.”

“That’s differen–” Zeb froze, eyes glazing over as he thought. “Okay, maybe it’s not.”

Kallus smiled as he screwed the base into the countertop. “I suppose we both need to listen to each other from time to time.”

Zeb laughed, short and chuffed, and came up behind Kallus to kiss the back of his neck. “I can think of things I’d rather do than listen.”

“That sounds about right.” Kallus laughed softly and turned to face Zeb. “And I would be happy to indulge you but for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“One of us is supposed to go meet the New Republic contractors,” Kallus said. He’d come to the conclusion that he wanted to try his hand at droid repair – hopefully a calm, non-martial career that would challenge him mentally. Some of the droids brought in by the New Republic already needed tweaks and fixes and soon Lasan residents would be buying droids as well. Overall, it seemed to be a good idea.

If they got the deed for the place, that was.

Zeb breathed deeply and sighed, exaggeratedly disappointed. “Guess that’s me.”

“It is,” Kallus confirmed. Even though Kallus intended to be a full-time Lasan resident and was mated to a lasat, the New Republic and Lasan governments were still only issuing deeds to lasat. It might be Kallus’s shop, but it would be in Zeb’s name.

Not that Kallus minded. He didn’t foresee any problems with that arrangement.

What _did_ worry him was the fact that Zeb still waffled on what to do. Some days, he considered Chaftin’s invitation to help train new Honor Guard. Others, he thought about accepting some sort of political appointment from Vashtyr. And the rest, he said he still wanted to rest and enjoy not having to do anything.

Without a solid purpose, Kallus feared Zeb would slip back into depression, but he couldn’t make decisions for Zeb. Trying to be supportive was his only real option.

Zeb rubbed his cheeks into Kallus’s beard, scenting him firmly; not really necessary, as he’d already done that earlier in the day, but Kallus wasn’t going to complain about the show of affection. He was still getting used to the idea that they could and _would_ do such things, even though it’d been nearly three months since they first came to their senses.

“All right, I’m off,” Zeb said. “I’ll be back with your shop. Sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“Not this time,” Kallus said. “I don’t want there to be any semblance of impropriety about the shop’s ownership.” _I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of Lasan_.

Zeb shrugged. “All right then. I’ll see you for dinner?”

Kallus pushed Zeb toward the door. “Yes, dinner. Now go.”

Grinning rakishly, Zeb left and Kallus found himself alone.

That’d been his plan. He wanted some uninterrupted time to set up a small portion of one of the bedrooms just for Zeb. An office, of sorts, but more a place of remembrance. He had gotten Kafzyr to let him copy some of their surviving family holos and to take some of Zeb’s new family.

With luck, Kallus would be able to give Zeb a place to be surrounded by his families, the Orrelioses and Spectres both.

He was hanging the last of the holo projectors on the wall when his comlink started screaming.

Kallus scrambled to pull it out of his pocket; such a siren meant an emergency call of some sort. Had Zeb gotten hurt somehow?

The shrill shriek stopped, and a mechanical voice repeated a string of numbers: coordinates, and not ones in Lasan space.

Instinctively, Kallus dropped what he was doing, grabbing the things he’d need to pilot the _Glimmer_. On his way to the new spaceport, he connected to the source of the distress call.

“ _My friend!_ ”

Kallus paused, eyes going wide. “Ohnaka? What are you doing calling me?” He listened a second more and thought he heard turbolasers. “Are you being attacked?”

“ _Clever as always! Hondo is bringing lasat to Lasan, but the Empire says no_.”

 _Karabast_. Kallus didn’t know where Hondo had found lasat, but there was no way he could sit by and let the fool be attacked by the Empire. He’d go get Zeb, but it sounded like time was of the essence. “I’m on my way,” he said, redoubling his speed.

He started up the _Glimmer_ and got to space in near-record time. Plugging the coordinates into his navicomputer, Kallus saw they were only a short jump from Lasan.

When he dropped out of hyperspace, Kallus found himself in a small space battle. TIEs chased the _Last Chance_ , Hondo’s ship, while a light cruiser hung back, waiting for the spoils.

If Hondo really had lasat on his ship…

Kallus flew into the fray, using the _Glimmer_ ’s autotargeting system to try and shake the TIEs. “Ohnaka,” he growled into the comm, “jump. I’ll hold them off.”

“ _Ah_. _I cannot do that, friend. They have taken out our hyperdrive._ ”

Swearing under his breath, Kallus noticed that the _Last Chance_ was indeed smoking where the hyperdrive engines should be. A gaping hole had replaced one of the wings, as well. “Fine. Stay evasive. I’ll get the cruiser.”

Ducking and diving, Kallus wound his way past the TIEs, heading toward the light cruiser. He enabled the modified proton torpedo cannons, not a standard feature of the _Glimmer_ ’s model, but one he’d worked on almost as soon as he got the ship.

Lasers would hurt the cruiser, but a proton torpedo would disable it.

Of course, that meant coming in range of the cruiser’s turbolasers, which put the _Glimmer_ in danger. It wasn’t like Kallus hadn’t faced danger before – he’d been at war one way or another for more than twenty years, for Force’s sake – but now he had someone to come home to. Had a _home_ to go to _._ If he got himself or his ship hurt now, Zeb would kill him.

The turbolasers started firing and Kallus juked to avoid them, all the while trying to get a lock on the cruiser’s most vulnerable points: the sensor arrays and the engines.

 _There_. A lock on the engines. Kallus fired quickly before diving to fly past the cruiser’s unprotected underbelly. Taking a deep breath, he emerged again to shoot off a couple of missiles toward the sensors.

The missiles missed the sensor arrays, but he’d hit the engines, stranding the cruiser and shutting down its power supply. They’d be back online soon enough – cruisers that size carried maintenance crews with them that knew how to repair proton damage – but he had a bit of time to deal with Hondo.

The TIEs – only two of them left now – turned on him and he picked them off with ease, feeling only a little pang of sympathy that the Empire didn’t value its pilots enough to give them shields.

“All right, Ohnaka, I’m docking with you,” Kallus commed.

“ _Yes, yes!_ ” Hondo said. “ _Hondo is afraid his ship cannot make it to Lasan_.”

“You’ll have to abandon it here,” Kallus said. “Wipe anything you don’t want the Empire to have and get everyone ready.”

A squeal came over the comm; that must be Melch. Kallus was a little surprised the ugnaught was still with the pirate. Business must have been lucrative lately.

Kallus docked with the _Last Chance_ and ran to the hatch. Immediately, when it opened, he hissed, “Oh, _kriff_.”

Seven lasat stood there, three adults and four kits, looking terrified. Kallus recognized them from Ollira on Lira San by sight, if not by name.

“Well, come on,” he said, stepping to the side. “Hurry so we can get out of here. Do you have belongings?”

“They got spaced when we got hit,” explained one of the youth, a teenaged boy.

Kallus’s heart sank. These refugees had lost everything a second time. “We’ll get you what you need on Lasan. There’s plenty of help to be had,” he promised.

The lasat filed onto the _Glimmer_. Kallus could hear Hondo and Melch, but not see them, so he boarded the _Last Chance_. There was also the sound of–

–kits crying, just as Kallus had feared. Hondo was trying to drag two young kits away from the bodies of three more adult lasat, who’d obviously been hit with the same turbolaser blast that pierced the hull. There wasn’t much left of them, to be honest.

Melch squealed and ran at Kallus, something in his arms. It took Kallus a moment to realize it was another kit, this one a true baby.

 _Kara-kriffing-bast_ , these kits were orphans. Kallus didn’t have time to deal with them – that cruiser would be back online soon enough – so he gestured for everyone to go to the _Glimmer_.

Melch stopped in front of Kallus, holding out the kit, who started wailing.

Kallus balked. What was he supposed to do with a baby? He didn’t want to waste the time arguing with Melch, however, so he took the small bundle. The kit had worked their hands free and sharp needle-like claws dug into his chest almost as soon as he picked them up. They were oddly colored, purple with dark stripes like Zeb’s, but with tan highlights streaking through the purple. Kallus had seen mixed-color lasats before, but none that looked like this kit.

“You see, my friend, why we called for help,” Hondo said, almost sadly.

“I do,” Kallus said, eyeing the other kits with worry. “On the _Glimmer_ , as fast as you can. We’ll make sure everyone’s taken care of.”

The kit was small enough Kallus could hold them in one arm. He took advantage of that to release the docking lock and then prime the _Glimmer_ for a hyperspace jump.

The jump was only ten minutes, but he took the time to comm the palace and ask for an emergency audience with Vashtyr. “Tell her I’m sorry, but I’m bringing her a problem,” he told the New Republic comm engineer who answered his hails. Kallus paused. “And someone fetch Garazeb Orrelios. He should be there, too, as a familiar face.”

As the adrenaline started filtering out of his system, Kallus found himself shaky. It wasn’t the battle. Battles were easy. But the kit in his arms and the two back in the passenger area with Hondo?

Those terrified him.

* * *

The palace messenger hadn’t given Zeb much information beyond the fact that Kallus was involved in an emergency situation at the palace. 

That left a lot of room for imagination.

Zeb ran through Ithdasira, passing lasat on foot and in the few landspeeders that were starting to appear in the city again. He knew he was being watched, but he didn’t care. If Kallus was potentially hurt…

The Honor Guard at the palace door made Zeb slow down before he entered the building. Zeb managed to keep a comment about ‘what if it was _your_ mate?’ to himself, but just barely.

Bursting into the palace’s main receiving room, Zeb looked around, wild-eyed, until his gaze settled on Kallus. It took him a second to register that Kallus was whole and healthy because there was a kit clinging to his shirt. Only then did Zeb notice all the other lasat in the room, adult and kit both. He knew Vashtyr and Chaftin and the others seemed familiar. And there by Vashtyr was… Hondo Ohnaka? And Melch?

Kallus looked slightly panicked. “Zeb,” he said, some relief in his voice.

Zeb walked up to the group, looking to Vashtyr. “What’s going on?”

Hondo took a step forward, as if he was going to talk, but Vashtyr quickly put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a ‘be quiet’ look. “Imperials were waiting on the hyperspace route from Lira San to here,” she said, sounding gravely concerned. “They attacked this man’s ship, killed three of the refugees he was returning home.”

“I received a distress signal after you left,” Kallus explained, wincing. “Ohnaka was a short jump away, under attack. I got there as quickly as I could, but I wasn’t quick enough. And now these kits are orphaned and the rest lost everything.”

Kallus’s guilt complex was about to return full-force, Zeb saw. In an attempt to fend it off, he walked over to Kallus, wrapping an arm around him, careful not to squish the kit he held.

“We can find homes for everyone,” Vashtyr said. “There’s plenty of room in Ithdasira and plenty of relief from the New Republic. The concern are these kits.”

“These two still have family on Lira San,” said one of the lasat, gesturing to the two kits standing by themselves.

One of them, a girl who couldn’t be more than seven, spoke up. “ _Zami_ stayed behind,” she said quietly.

They had a grandmother, then. “So do we take them back or bring their _zaman_ here?” Zeb asked.

“We’re discussing that,” Vashtyr said.

“Hondo would go happily, but we no longer have a ship,” Hondo burst out, as if he’d been quiet as long as he could stand. He looked at Kallus. “If, perhaps, you were to give us your ship…”

“Not happening,” said both Kallus and Zeb simultaneously.

“Very well,” said Hondo, taking a step back. “Hondo will find another ship.”

“Chaftin,” Vashtyr said, “will you take these families and find out what they need, starting with food? And then someone needs to tell the New Republic about the Imperial attack. Can I ask you to do that?”

“Yes, _Velenira_.” Chaftin led most of the group out of the receiving room, leaving just the kits, Hondo and Melch, and Kallus and Zeb.

Vashtyr took a deep, shaky breath, eyes closed. Stress, Zeb thought. “Mr. Ohnaka, I want to hear from you – in a bit – exactly how you came under attack. First, though, I need to decide what to do with these kits.” She crouched down, getting on the level of the older two kits. “Please tell me: would you like to go back to Lira San as soon as it’s safe or would you like to stay here until your _zaman_ can be found?”

The girl suddenly burst into tears. Her brother hugged her and shook his head at Vashtyr. “I think we just want our _zaman_.”

Vashtyr nodded. “It will be a few days before we can safely take you back. In the meantime, I want you to stay with me and my family. I have a son about your age, named Avi. I hope you’ll be able to get along.” She bit her lip, fangs catching briefly. “Whatever we can do to help you, we will. I can’t replace your _adan_ , but you’ll be safe here.”

“What about this one?” Kallus asked. “I don’t even know their name.”

“Tiankal,” said the boy. “That’s what her _aman_ called her.”

Vashtyr looked apologetic. “Can I ask you two to watch her? I know you don’t have anything to take care of a young kit, but neither do I and I have my hands full dealing with the rest of this.”

Kallus stiffened and Zeb couldn’t say he wasn’t momentarily terrified as well. But maybe this could be practice for when they adopted a kit.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he said. 

Kallus shot him a bewildered look.

Zeb shrugged. “Where else does she have to go? There’s nothing we’re doing that can’t wait a few days. Might as well.” He took the kit from Kallus, letting her cling to his chest, tiny claws piercing through his shirt and winding in his fur.

Kallus rubbed at his own chest; Zeb could just imagine the scratches Tiankal had left on his unprotected skin.

“D’you need us any longer, Vashtyr?” Zeb asked. “‘Cause this one’ll need somethin’ sooner rather than later.”

“Go,” said Vashtyr. “And thank you.”

Kallus at least had the decency to wait until they were out of the palace before pouncing on Zeb. “What are you thinking? How are you so calm about this? We can’t take care of a baby!”

Zeb glanced at Tiankal – _Tia_ , they’d have to call her; they already had a _Kal_ in the family – and then gave Kallus a wry grin. “Sure we can. C’mon, you had two little sisters, so don’t you remember how to take care of babies?”

“Zeb!” Kallus protested. “I was _five_ when my youngest sister was born. Do you think I was _allowed_ to help take care of Nadja at that age? My mother didn’t want me underfoot. The family already needed me to be out hunting for bounties and thieving back then.”

Being so amused at his mate’s stress wasn’t right, Zeb knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Kallus would get worked up, but soon he’d reach a point where he’d start problem solving and he’d calm down a little then. Zeb just had to keep him from having a full-blown panic attack before he reached that point.

“We shouldn’t be the ones watching her.”

“Why not?”

Kallus gave Zeb an incredulous look. “Her parents died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Sounded to me like the damage was done by the time Hondo called you,” Zeb said. “An’ that you got there quick as you could.”

“Where are we going?” Kallus snapped suddenly, changing the subject away from his guilt. “This isn’t the way home.”

“No,” Zeb said. “We’re goin’ to the New Republic supply depot to see if they have anythin’ we can use.”

“Oh.” Kallus took a deep breath and Zeb smiled. He’d already reached the tipping point. “They did have supply crates made up for families, didn’t they? Maybe they’re not out.”

“Hope not.” Zeb hitched Tia a little higher on his chest, so her head was almost on his shoulder. Blinking slowly, she seemed to be getting tired.

Unfortunately, tired also meant fussy. She squirmed in Zeb’s arms, making small noises of protest. Zeb walked faster, making Kallus take longer strides as well. Maybe they could get her back to their place before she started crying.

It wasn’t to be. As they reached the supply depot, the kit wailed, getting everyone’s attention. 

Zeb shot a look at Kallus, who nodded and went to talk to one of the relief workers about getting baby supplies. 

That left Zeb with Tia, trying to calm her down. He could tell she was tired, but was she hungry as well? Did her diaper need changing?

Zeb had helped out a little when his sister had her kits as well as being there with Hera and Jacen, so he wasn’t completely lost, but he hardly considered himself an expert. He couldn’t even guess how old Tia was. Would they ever know her birthday? Did the surviving refugees remember her from Lira San?

When Jacen had been this little, Zeb had helped put him to sleep by bouncing him a little, constant – _gentle_ – small movements. He tried that now with Tia and the crying stopped, becoming softer whimpers.

Zeb’s ears were grateful for the de-escalation. Fewer New Republic workers stared at him, as well. Now, he just had to keep her that calm.

Kallus returned ten minutes later with a large storage crate. “They said this has some furniture in it – we’ll have to put it together – as well as diapers and formula. Some other things, too, I think.”

“Good,” Zeb said quietly. “Let’s get her home an’ let her sleep. It’s been a busy day for you both.”

Slowing his steps, Kallus gave Zeb a guilty look. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left.”

“I wish you had,” Zeb said. “But you made the right decision to go without me. If you’d been any later, you might not have had anyone to rescue at all.”

“You’re not going to fuss about me taking on an Imperial cruiser by myself?” Kallus asked.

“Oh, _that,_ prob’ly. That was reckless.” Zeb shrugged his free shoulder. “But right now we’d better focus on this little one.”

“She’s asleep now,” Kallus noted. “What’d you do?”

“The same stuff Hera an’ Rex an’ I did with Jacen.” Zeb waited a beat. “Did she shred your chest? Kit claws are usually pretty sharp.”

“Not so much _shred_ ,” Kallus said, rubbing his chest again. “But I’ll be scratched up for a while.”

“Won’t be your first time. I’ve left a fair few scratches on you.” Grinning, Zeb glanced at Kallus to find him scandalized.

“Not in front of a _baby_ , Zeb!”

Zeb laughed, quietly so he didn’t wake Tia again. “She’s asleep and she’s far too young to understand.”

Kallus flushed, his freckles standing out against pink skin in the Lasan sun. Zeb warmed as well; it was rare that he was able to fluster his mate like that and it was incredibly attractive on Kallus’s part.

Then again, _most_ , if not all, things Kallus did were attractive to Zeb.

Zeb went first into their house, Kallus following with the crate. “Which room do you wanna put her in?” he asked, looking up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Kallus rubbed his eyes. “She should be next to us, right? Or is she small enough she needs to be _with_ us?”

“Nah, close should be good enough. She’ll squall and let us know when she needs something.” Zeb carried Tia into their bedroom as he spoke. Carefully, he laid her down in their bed pit, making sure to move the blankets out of her way.

Kallus leaned in the doorway, watching Tia with wide eyes. “Will she be okay there?”

Zeb kissed Kallus’s forehead, blocking his view of the kit for a moment. “She’s asleep. That gives us time to check out the crate.”

“Right,” Kallus said. He locked eyes with Zeb. “Are we really the best to take care of her? What if she doesn’t have family to go back to?”

“Then we’ll find her a place here on Lasan,” Zeb said, lightly squeezing his mate’s biceps. “Vashtyr will make sure of it.”

Kallus bit his lip, nodding. “Vashtyr. Of course. She’ll take care of her.” He breathed deep and closed his eyes for a moment. “We need to see what’s in that crate for now. She can’t sleep with us, so she needs a bed.”

“Diapers and formula, too,” Zeb added. “Those are pretty important.”

“And Hera used a comm monitor with Jacen, right?” Kallus asked. “We need one of those.”

“The crate,” Zeb said, pointing to the bedroom directly across the hall.

“Of course.” Kallus took Zeb’s hand and led the way into the bedroom.

The crate was packed full. There on top was a speeder seat, beneath that the basic supplies Zeb had expected. Kallus studied each thing as he unpacked it – bottles, formula, diapers, clothes that looked like they’d probably be a bit too large on Tia, but too big was better than too small – and then at the bottom was a box containing the parts to build a crib.

Good, Zeb had been hoping there’d be one of those.

Kallus sat on his knees, looking at the items arrayed around him. “Where do you want to start?” he asked.

Zeb started picking up the bottles and formula. “I’ll put the little things away if you get us set up on the crib. I’ll be back to help you in a few minutes.”

“We don’t have blankets for her,” Kallus said suddenly, looking worried.

“Cut up one of the ones from the _Glimmer_?” Zeb suggested.

Kallus relaxed, but only a bit. “All right. That makes sense.”

Zeb reached over and nudged Kallus’s shoulder. “Hey. We got this. We took on the Empire, so we can take care of a kit, right? Think of it as practice for when we get our own.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem to be the reassurance Zeb meant it to be. Kallus licked his lips nervously, saying nothing.

Zeb sighed. “I’ll be back, Kal. Just focus on that crib for now. One step at a time, right?”

“Right.”

Zeb stopped in the door to their bedroom on his way back down to the kitchen. Tia slept easily, it seemed.

Her fluffy brindled fur was a rare coloring, Zeb thought. It usually only occurred when both a kit’s parents were mixed-color. That ought to make it a little easier to find out who they’d been.

He felt bad he couldn’t remember them off the top of his head, but he _had_ avoided most social situations while on Lira San. Perhaps it was to be expected.

Well, he could fix that now. He could make sure Tiankal was taken care of and settled into a new, loving home as quickly as possible.

It would be just a few days, after all.


	19. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full chapter! Epilogue coming tomorrow.
> 
> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Ni kyra – sweetheart (for a child)  
> Adan/dan-dan – father/daddy  
> Arkesana – spiritual leader  
> Aman – mother  
> Djadan - uncle

A few sniffles was all the warning they got before a wail sounded through the house – or at least through the system of comlinks Kallus had rigged into a rudimentary baby monitor a few nights before.

Kallus scrambled out of the bed pit and into Tia’s room. She lay in the crib, arms and legs moving as if she were looking for purchase to climb. Maybe, if he was lucky, all she needed was to be held.

Luck was not on his side. As soon as he picked her up, Kallus got a whiff of a horrible smell. “Karabast,” he muttered, looking around for where he’d piled up the diapers.

Snagging the one on top, Kallus carried Tia to the refresher, laying her down on the cool countertop, which spurred fresh cries.

“Shush,” Kallus told her gently. “I’m getting you out of that diaper. You can stop crying any time now.”

“I don’t think reasonin’ with her will work,” Zeb said, leaning sleepily just inside the door. “You got a few years yet ‘fore you can do that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with telling her what I’m doing,” Kallus argued as he undid Tia’s diaper, letting loose a new wave of that smell. “It might sink in. Hand me a wipe, will you?”

Zeb pulled a couple disposable wipes from the small dispenser and put them in Kallus’s outstretched hand. “This is a good look for you, y’know.”

“What?” Kallus asked. “Tired and frazzled and smelling like bantha fodder?”

“That’s her, not you,” Zeb pointed out. “No. Takin’ care of her. I like it.”

Kallus used a third wipe to make sure he’d fully cleaned Tia’s fur before sliding the new diaper underneath her. He secured it tightly – but hopefully not _too_ tightly – and re-did the snaps on Tia’s small bodysuit. 

Calming, Tia even smiled and gurgled, eliciting a relieved sigh from Kallus. He picked her up, holding her close to his bare chest, the fur of her arms and legs soft and fluffy against his skin. “You get to clean up in here,” he told Zeb. “I’m going to see if she’ll go back to sleep.”

Zeb looked at the mess Kallus had left. “Fair enough,” he said resignedly.

Hiding a triumphant grin behind Tia’s head, Kallus slipped by Zeb and went downstairs to the sitting area. They didn’t have a rocking chair of any sort, so the big plush couch would have to do. Sinking into it, Kallus rubbed Tia’s back. “You still sleepy, little girl?” he whispered, just loud enough for the two of them. “Come on, I’d like to go back to bed, too.”

Tia gurgled at him, watching him with big green eyes. She reached up and tried to tug on his beard. She’d been fascinated with it the last couple of days, since she discovered it. Kallus supposed it was the closest thing he had to lasat fur. He was fine with her holding onto it, but he wished she wouldn’t use her claws.

She was too small to control that, however, or her ears. They twitched and flicked toward the slightest sounds, folding down when she was unhappy – or sometimes just because, it seemed. Kallus knew how to read Zeb’s ears, but he wasn’t quite sure he had it down when it came to Tia. 

Kallus scratched at her head, where she had a short-but-distinct head of purple hair growing in, shaggier and thicker than the surrounding fur, and Tia’s gurgles turned into purrs. Her eyes fluttered closed after a bit and her purrs evened out into snores.

Tia slept, one hand holding onto Kallus’s beard, her other claws gripping his chest hair. It was certainly not the most comfortable position, but Kallus hated to move her when she was that happy and relaxed.

Zeb crept down the stairs, smiling when he saw them. “D’you need me to free you?” he asked.

“Please,” Kallus said.

As carefully as they both could manage, they untwined her fingers and toes from Kallus’s hair and Zeb took her back upstairs.

Kallus followed a few moments later, meeting Zeb in the hallway.

“You gonna have enough sleep?” Zeb asked.

Kallus climbed back into the bedpit slowly, as if he was hurting; mostly he was trying not to make a noise to wake Tia again. “Should,” he said.

“You know I’ve got her while you’re at the shop,” Zeb said, pressing. He joined Kallus in the bed. “We’ll be fine.”

Snuggling up to Zeb, Kallus stifled a yawn. He was supposed to open the droid repair shop for the first time in the morning. It was a big day, but that excitement was overshadowed by a growing attachment to Tia. He’d deny it vociferously, but he wasn’t looking forward to Tia finding a new home.

Zeb had been right about them having kits. Playing at being a father to Tia was… well, it was nice. It was exhausting even in just the few days they’d had her, but exhausting could be enjoyable.

“I know,” Kallus whispered back. “The day will go well for both of us.”

On Kallus’s end, at least, he was right. The idea of droids on Lasan again drew in a lot of curious lasat, kits and adults both. Kallus made a show of working on a protocol droid that had been uncovered in one of the stores in Ithdasira as it was being rebuilt. Kafzyr and others remembered it belonging to a merchant whose family hadn’t survived. They’d been ready to throw it on the scrap heap after so many years, but Kallus wanted to see if anything was salvageable, even if just for parts. If he got the droid working, maybe it could help Vashtyr.

And so he sat in front of the large window, visible to passersby, working on the droid’s head, where the main processors were. If they weren’t salvageable, then the whole droid would have to be scrapped.

Luck was with Kallus, though, because he found that, with the exception of some web-weaving bugs and a little corrosion, the droid’s head was in fairly decent condition.

He walked home from the shop in a good mood. It was nice to have something productive and helpful to do that didn’t involve fighting. It was a first in his life, really.

Just in case Tia was asleep, Kallus entered the house quietly, shutting the door gently behind him. A few steps further in and he stopped, staring at the couch in the sitting area.

Zeb was sprawled on the couch, one leg over the side, the other hanging off the front. Tia slept on his chest, the kneading motion of her hands visible even from Kallus’s distance. Both snored: Zeb a deep, rumbly noise, Tia more of a soft whistle every time she exhaled.

Kallus bit his lips, staring at the two of them. As he watched, Tia curled a leg up underneath her tiny body. Looking at her, Looking at Zeb, Kallus felt his heart clench in his chest.

He realized he’d been happy, thinking of coming home to them both.

He realized that even though Tia had only been around a short while, he loved her too.

He realized that Tia was already part of their family and there was no way they could let her go.

Kallus felt an instant pang at that last thought. _Unless she has family on Lira San_ , he amended. _Even then it’ll be hard_.

Quietly, Kallus sat on the floor, backed up to the couch where he could lean his head back against Zeb’s side. One large arm slid down, pinning Kallus in place, but Zeb’s snores went uninterrupted. With a smile on his face, Kallus joined the nap pile.

Tia was the first to wake, trilling unhappily, a noise Kallus had come to associate with feeding time.

“I’ve got her,” he muttered, only half-awake, extricating himself from Zeb’s grasp.

“You sure?” Zeb asked, voice a sleepy baritone rumble. “I c’n do it.”

Giving Zeb a quick kiss before climbing to his feet, Kallus argued, “No, you had her all day. It’s my turn.” Carefully, he picked up the squirming kit.

Tia immediately grabbed his hair and yanked, hard. Kallus fell back on his Imperial training to keep from making a noise, both for his own dignity and so he wouldn’t scare Tia.

Zeb followed them into the kitchen as Kallus went about the process of prepping a self-warming bottle one-handed. “How was the shop?”

Kallus hummed agreeably, nose nestled in Tia’s hair, enjoying the scent of baby lasat – so soft and so different from Zeb’s heady musk. “It went well enough,” he said. “It was quiet, which I hope will change before too long, but I had that TC unit to work on. How were things here?”

“The li’l monster and I went for a walk to that park that still has the trees; you know the one. I let her climb a bit.”

“You let her climb?” Kallus looked at Zeb incredulously. “Isn’t she too young for that?”

Zeb scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you gotta remember we lived in trees first. Kits can climb ‘fore they can walk.” He gave a haphazard grin. “She mostly just clung to the tree and bounced, anyway. Not quite ready for real climbing yet.”

Kallus tried to slow his racing heart rate. Zeb knew lasat kits better than Kallus probably ever would; he needed to trust his husband’s judgment. Still, hearing about tiny Tia doing something that could have gotten her hurt…

Kriff, he had it bad, didn’t he? He needed to make sure Zeb was on the same page.

“We need to talk about her,” Kallus said. “What’s going to happen to her if that ship gets back from Lira San and she doesn’t have family there.”

When Kallus looked back at Zeb next, he was standing there with a closed expression on his face. “I s’pose she goes to someone else? Someone Vashtyr picks?” he said after a minute. He didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, however.

Kallus took his time responding. “What if she doesn’t?” he asked slowly. “What if we keep her?”

“Kal…” Zeb sounded wary, which was better than disappointed or upset, Kallus figured.

“I’m serious,” Kallus said. “You said you wanted kits, you convinced me. I know we were going to wait a bit, but Tia’s fallen into our laps and I think– I think the two of us could give her a good home.”

“I think so, too,” Zeb said after a moment. “But I don’t want to get my hopes up in case she does have family that wants her. I don’t want to lose–”

 _He doesn’t want to lose her, too_ , Kallus thought. It was reasonable. Every time in his life Zeb had loved freely, he’d lost people.

Well, every time up until the present. Kallus was determined to see that Zeb kept every last scrap of family he’d built up until they both were old and senile.

“We’ll know one way or another soon,” Kallus said. “The transport should be returning from Lira San any day now.” He wasn’t worried about the safety of the transport – which had taken the other kits back to Lira San – because the New Republic had immediately sent out X-wing and A-wing squadrons to all the important points along the route to Lira San, including in Lasan airspace.

“True.” Zeb hung back, as if he were still scared. He caught Kallus’s eye. “Are you saying this because you’re trying to make me happy?”

“Making you happy is just a side effect,” Kallus said. He checked the bottle – warm enough now – and walked back to the couch so he could sit and feed Tia. “But when I walked in and saw the two of you…”

Zeb waited a second before prompting, “You saw us and what?”

Kallus shook his head, hair falling in his face. “This felt like home. _You both_ felt like home.”

“Thought you said you didn’t know what a real home felt like,” Zeb said, more curious than accusatory.

Kallus shrugged. “If home’s somewhere I want to be, with the people I love, then this is home.”

Zeb leaned over Kallus and Tia, bracing himself on the couch, and kissed Kallus almost hungrily. Kallus pulled back before it got too heated – there _was_ a baby on his lap – but he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

He’d entered civilian life with a few reservations, mostly worries about his own suitability for anything that wasn’t martial, but now, just a few months into his retirement, Kallus had figured out that maybe, civilian life – home, husband, family – was something he’d wanted all along but never had the words for. Never been _allowed_ to have the words for. Never chosen to learn them.

He had the words now.

* * *

Zeb got the summons to the palace and his heart froze. The messenger from Lira San had returned with news.

Deliberately, he wrapped Tia in the makeshift sling he and Kallus had figured out and left a message on Kallus’s comm to meet them if possible. Only then did he set out for the palace. 

If he dragged his feet a little, who could blame him? He’d told Kallus he was trying not to get attached, but the truth was he was just as head over heels for Tia as Kallus was.

Zeb arrived at the palace at the same time as a breathless Kallus, who appeared to have run the whole way. Kallus gave Tia a quick kiss on the top of her head and shared a worried look with Zeb.

They met with Vashtyr in the family’s living room, Kafzyr and Avi present and listening in.

As soon as they walked in the room, Vashtyr moved to pick up Tia. Zeb let her, reluctantly, worried he’d never hold her again. 

Tia fussed, but Vashtyr shushed her, rubbing the kit’s back until she calmed. Vashtyr looked at Zeb and Kallus. “We’ve heard from Lira San and Tiankal has no family there. She just had her parents and since they’re both gone, she needs a new home.”

Zeb froze in place, unable to take his eyes off Tia, ears already drooping in disappointment.

“I’ve been making inquiries the last few days just in case and I think I’ve found a family that will take her in. Their kits are older, but they were willing when I asked.” Vashtyr spoke easily, bouncing Tia as she unwittingly broke Zeb’s heart. “I know it’s been an imposition on you, so I’ll have her out of your hair tonight. Just as soon as her new family can come pick up the baby supplies.”

Zeb’s throat thickened and his ears pressed flat against his head. He tried to speak, to plead, but nothing came out. He turned his head to Kallus, hoping _he_ had his wits about him.

“Is the adoption set in stone?” Kallus asked, frowning.

“Almost,” Vashtyr said. “If you’re worried about it falling through–”

“We want her,” Kallus said quickly, cutting Vashtyr off. “We want her to stay with us.”

Vashtyr looked at him curiously, as did Kafzyr and Avi. “Last I heard, you didn’t want kits.”

Kallus shook his head. “Back in Velencia, Zeb convinced me we could do it together. And this week with Tia has shown me that he was right.” He paused, swallowing nervously. “We love her already. We want her to be _our_ family.”

Vashtyr glanced at Zeb, who managed to nod.

Kallus wasn’t through, however, speaking impassionedly to both Vashtyr and Kafzyr. “You know my past and it must seem I am the last person to be entrusted with a kit’s life. That I am the last person to deserve or desire a family or a home. Since coming here, I’ve learned differently. For the first time since I was a young child, I know what it’s like to have a home. I want Tia to know what that’s like as well. I want to be her family. I want to be family for _more_ kits down the road. I would adopt a hundred kits if necessary to give them all homes!” 

Kallus blinked, as if suddenly aware how viscerally earnest he sounded. He bowed his head and stepped back. Zeb could see he was still flushed and trembling, though. He must have put all of himself into that speech. Had he planned that or was it impromptu?

Vashtyr was quiet a moment, watching Tia. The silence seemed to stretch forever and Zeb pleaded to the Ashla for her to say something, _anything_.

Finally, she spoke. “Let’s start with this one kit before we give you a hundred, all right?”

Hand flying to his mouth, Zeb tried to stifle his desperate laugh. They were going to get to keep Tia!

“I suppose that means you should know all that we found out about her on Lira San,” Vashtyr said. Catching Avi’s eye, she pointed to a piece of flimsi on the table. The kit dutifully grabbed it and handed it to Zeb.

He held it so Kallus could see and scanned it. There were her parents’ names, where they’d been from on Lasan, where they’d spent their years as refugees, and–

“She turned four months old yesterday,” Zeb said. She was so young; no wonder she was so tiny.

Vashtyr nodded. “I’m curious: will she be an Orrelios or a Kallus?”

Zeb and Kallus spoke at the same time.

“Kallus-Orrelios–”

“Orrelios–”

They looked at each other. Zeb shrugged. “We’ll figure that out,” he said. “We didn’t discuss stuff like that in case she still had family.”

“She does have family,” Vashtyr said. “All of us.”

“Yeah,” Zeb agreed. “She does.”

Vashtyr walked over to Kallus and handed Tia to him. He hugged the kit tight, burying his face in her hair fluff. Zeb thought he saw a hint of tears, but he refrained from making a comment.

“What do we need to do to make this official?” he asked.

“The plan was for the other family to sign papers and get her set up as a citizen of Lasan the day after tomorrow.”

Kallus nodded. “Just tell us the time and we’ll be here. Tomorrow or the next day or the next.”

“Don’t forget,” Kafzyr said, “tomorrow’s the vote.”

Zeb hadn’t forgotten; the vote on New Republic membership had been the topic of discussion for much of the last week. “Like Kal said, we’ll be here.”

Still holding Tia protectively, Kallus asked Vashtyr, “Do you need us for anything else?”

“Go get Tiankal settled in for good,” Vashtyr said. “But plan on joining us for the evening tomorrow?”

“We can do that,” Zeb said. “We’ll come over after the vote.” Before anything else could be said, he and Kallus ducked out of the palace, ready to take Tia home.

On the walk home, the kit began fussing. Kallus loosened his grip on her so he could check her diaper.

“She’s clean,” he said as Tia dug her claws into his shirt and chest.

Zeb winced for Kallus’s sake. His mate’s stomach and chest had been covered with tiny red scratches all week. They’d put bacta on them each night, but Zeb knew it couldn’t be pleasant.

Kallus didn’t try to make Tia let go, however. He was still murmuring to the kit, trying to figure out what she wanted. “Are you hungry, _ni kyra_? Or was I holding you too tightly?”

Tia bounced in his arms, her burbles turning from near whimpers to happier noises.

“Must have been it,” Zeb said.

Kallus looked guilty for a second. “I just didn’t want to let go of her.”

“I know.” Zeb wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulders as they walked. “ _Adan_ is a good look on you.”

Kallus’s eyes widened. “We have so much to figure out,” he said. “What’s her last name going to be? What is she going to call us?”

“Well, little ones here usually say dan-dan,” Zeb explained. “What about humans?”

“Um,” Kallus seemed like he was caught off-guard, but he recovered quickly. “I called my father papa. But there’s also dad or daddy, baba, tata. Probably more that I’m unfamiliar with.”

Zeb gave Kallus an amused look. “Sounds like you’ve already thought about it.”

“ _Thought_ , yes. _Decided_ , no,” Kallus admitted.

Zeb quietly ran through the nicknames Kallus mentioned. “You liked your _adan_ , right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kallus said quietly. “He was a kind man when he was around, which wasn’t much. And then he was dead.”

“He was a good man, then? Maybe carrying on that nickname wouldn’t be so bad,” Zeb said, equally gently. “Papa Alexsandr does seem to fit.”

Kallus fell silent for a few minutes, obviously thinking, though he tried to hide it by picking lint from Tia’s clothes.

Zeb waited, wanting to let Kallus come to his own decision.

“You’re right. Papa works.” Panic crossed Kallus’s face again. “We’re actually keeping her. She’s officially ours. We’re parents,” he said, as if it all just occurred to him.

Laughing, Zeb squeezed his shoulder. “We are. Can’t back out now, not after your speech to Vashtyr.”

To Zeb’s continued amusement, Kallus spent the rest of the night alternating between joy and utter terror, even going so far as to stand in the door to Tia’s room, watching the kit sleep, long past their usual bedtime. Zeb had to physically drag him to bed and even then, Kallus’s heart was still racing, pulse beating under Zeb’s fingers.

The next day started early, with a wailing Tia. Kallus was still wiped out after finally falling asleep, so Zeb got up with her, entertaining her by letting her climb his bare chest and back.

“Are you two trying to give me a heart attack?” Kallus said sleepily, coming down the stairs.

“Just letting her get out some energy,” Zeb explained. “You’re gonna have to get used to her climbing everything. She’s at the age where she’s going to start exploring.”

Kallus quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe she can start by exploring on the ground?”

Zeb laughed, scooped Tia up in his arms, and gave Kallus a good-morning scenting. “We’ll get a human kit next and you can be happy knowing they’re staying on the ground.”

“Hardly,” Kallus said, taking Tia after she reached for him. “They’ll see this one and try to follow her. Humans are foolhardy like that.”

Zeb had to admit, that was true of every adult human he knew, so it made sense it would be true for a kit. “I’m gonna go by the temple and vote. D’you want me and Tia to come to the shop after?”

“Sounds fair,” Kallus said. “I don’t imagine you will, but if you see Avi, invite him along. He did so well with the MSE droid, I’d love to show him others.”

“Tell him that tonight. We’re eating with ‘em, remember?”

Kallus’s eyes glazed over, face blank as he thought back. “I believe I was distracted when that was discussed.”

Zeb laughed again and kissed Kallus before heading back upstairs to get ready for the day.

Mailira was at the temple, presiding over the vote. It was a simple thing, just a single issue to vote on, but there was also only one machine to use, so a line had formed. After he made his vote, Zeb stopped to talk to Maillira.

He hadn’t gotten to talk to her much yet, but he was curious about his brother’s protégée. And, apparently, Mailira was curious about him.

“You really fulfilled the prophecies?” she asked. “The Warrior, Child, and Fool?”

“Yeah, I was the Child,” Zeb said. “An’ my mate’s the Warrior. The Fool was a pirate of our mutual acquaintance.”

“What’s Lira San like?”

Zeb frowned a little. “It’s… different from here,” he explained. “The language is different, they have different holidays and ways of connecting with the Ashla, and there are more natural fur colors than here.”

“What’s different about the Ashla there?” Mailira asked, keeping one eye on the voting, but glancing at Zeb and Tia every so often.

“I– I am actually not really sure,” Zeb said. “I mostly heard that from Chava. The truth is, if you want to know more about Lira San, you should ask my mate. He fit in better than I did.”

Mailira eyed him warily. “Your mate is the human, right?”

“Yeah, Kallus,” Zeb said, choosing not to use Kallus’s nickname in front of the young _Arkesana_. “He’s clever and better at adapting than I am. The real reason we came here was because I was unhappy there.”

Mailira gestured around her and Zeb looked, noting he could see much of the city from the temple. “I believe the Ashla brought you to us. If it weren’t for you, none of us would be here today.”

Zeb’s fur ruffled in embarrassment. “Someone woulda come eventually. It didn’t have to be me.”

“The Warrior and the Child? Who better to breathe life back into Lasan?”

 _Now_ she was sounding like an _Arkesana_. Zeb shook his head. “We don’t mean any trouble,” he said. “We don’t mean _anything_ , really. We’re just hoping to have quiet retirements.”

Mailira grinned. “And a kit is quiet?”

Zeb looked at Tia, and smiled. “Compared to years and years of war? It’s a quiet we’ll take.”

Surely Zeb’s statement didn’t deserve the laugh Mailira gave it. How could a kit, any kit, possibly be more chaotic than the Rebellion? Rambunctious, sure, but that could be dealt with.

To appease Kallus, Zeb let Tia try crawling on the ground at his shop. She mostly kicked her legs and scratched at the floor without making much progress, but it didn’t stop Kallus from making sure the floor was completely clear of all droid parts. Between Tia and Zeb serving as distractions, Kallus didn’t get much accomplished.

Somehow, Zeb didn’t think Kallus minded all that much.

They walked hand-in-hand to the palace as the sun set, Tia napping on Zeb’s shoulder. Avi greeted them at the door to the apartments, eyeing his new cousin with some suspicion.

“You’re really keeping her?” he asked. “She’s so _little_.”

“You were that little once,” said Kafzyr, waving them into the apartment.

Avi huffed. “You don’t know _anyone_ my age?” he asked. “I gotta play with a _four_ -year-old and now a _baby_.”

Zeb laughed softly and rubbed Avi’s head. “She’ll get bigger,” he promised. “But you’re gonna be someone she looks up to, not someone she plays with.”

Kallus moved past Zeb and approached Kafzyr. Zeb half-listened as he asked Kafzyr’s permission to teach Avi more about droids. Avi perked up and begged his father to say yes. 

Kafzyr just shook his head. “You’ll have to ask your _aman_.”

“Have to ask me what?” Vashtyr asked, poking her head in the main room. She nodded at Zeb and Kallus. “Good timing; the food’s ready.”

“Can I learn to fix droids with _Djadan_ Kal?” Avi asked eagerly.

Vashtyr made Avi wait a moment, though she was smiling. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with school now that we have one again.”

Avi swore up and down it wouldn’t, beaming.

Kallus smiled back.

Tia slept through dinner, wiped out across Zeb’s lap. Every now and again, Kallus reached over and ran his fingers through her short hair, as if he needed to remind himself of her presence.

Talk danced around the real topic at hand: the vote. No one seemed to want to predict or jinx the results, at least not until they all – including a now-awake and fussy Tia – walked back to the Temple to hear the results.

Mailira was still counting when they arrived, so they joined the crowd standing at the foot of the steps, waiting with varying levels of patience. Some of the other _Arkesana_ s talked on comlinks, getting the vote counts from other cities and settlements across the planet.

Kallus took Tia and kept her fed and entertained until finally, Mailira stood.

“Hopefully everyone got their chance to vote,” she started. “But the results are clear: Lasan is going to petition the New Republic for membership.”

A rumble ran through the crowd and Zeb thought it was mostly a noise of approval.

“I think the attack on Hondo’s ship convinced most people Lasan needs the New Republic,” Kallus said quietly. “If the vote had taken place before that…”

“It woulda been different,” Zeb agreed.

Vashtyr climbed the stairs to stand by Mailira. “We will open negotiations with the New Republic in the next few days,” she said. “I will need to appoint a Senator. If you wish, come by the palace tomorrow with your suggestions for this position.”

Zeb shook his head. “She’s asking for trouble there. Too many lasat with opinions around here.”

“You know, people might pick you,” Kallus said, a mischievous grin on his face. “Ambassador Orrelios.”

“ _Karabast_!” Zeb swore. “No. Absolutely not. Let’s get out of here before anyone gets any ideas.”

Laughing, Kallus and Tia followed Zeb through the crowd and back to their house.

Kallus stopped outside in the street, looking at the house.

“What’re you doing?” Zeb asked.

“Thinking.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I can tell _that_. What’re you thinking about?”

“Lira San.” Kallus motioned to Tia with his chin. “She was born there. And I was just remembering that little house they gave us. This is a big change.”

Zeb stepped back to join Kallus. Their house on Lira San had been small, one bedroom, built into a tree, as was traditional. This house wouldn’t look out of place on any number of Inner Rim worlds populated by varied species. It was very much like the type of place Zeb had lived in prior to the Imperial attack, though Lira San was more like where he’d been raised.

Still, there was one big difference about the houses that went beyond the superficial.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch anymore,” Zeb said, a little solemnly.

Kallus hummed. “I’m not. Unless you snore too loudly.”

Zeb bumped Kallus’s shoulder. “You snore, too, you know.” He smiled. “You’ve also stopped having nightmares as much.”

“I have,” Kallus said. He looked at Tia, then at Zeb. “I’ve got better things to dream about now.”

“Ha,” Zeb’s smile widened. “You’re a sap, Alexsandr Kallus. What would the ISB think of you bein’ so romantic like?”

“They would, hopefully, be absolutely incensed.” Kallus returned Zeb’s smile. “I wish them nothing but frustration and bafflement. And nothing but joy for us.”

Zeb scratched Tia’s head. “We got a pretty good start on that right here.”

“We do, don’t we?” Kallus sighed. “Suppose it’s time to put her to bed.”

“Sometimes I think you don’t want to set her down,” Zeb said.

Kallus bit his lip guiltily. “You’d be right,” he admitted.

“Come on,” Zeb said. “Let’s go inside.”

Kallus went first, murmuring to Tia as he entered the house. Zeb was a few steps behind, still thinking.

He’d hoped, in the deepest darkest most hidden parts of himself, that things would end up like this on Lira San: Zeb and Kallus and at least one kit. But he hadn’t really believed it would happen.

He never could have guessed what would come of his decision to bring Kallus to Lira San. If he’d known, he’d have written it off as fantastical. 

But there he was, part of a growing family again. Something he thought he’d lost for good.

It wasn’t everyone. There was still loss on Lasan and in the Rebellion both. But what he had was good. It was whole in its own way. And Zeb couldn’t dream of more than that.

With a smile still on his face, Zeb followed Kallus into the house.


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anath_Tsurugi's Lasana:  
> Dan-dan – daddy  
> Ni kyra - sweetheart

A loud giggle sounded through the house, accompanied by pounding footsteps.

Recognizing his cue, Kallus moved to the bottom of the staircase just in time for Tia to launch herself at him. 

“Papa!” the three-year-old cried as he caught her.

Before setting his daughter down, Kallus gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’re not dressed,” he observed, tugging at her sleep shirt. “Your _dan-dan_ is supposed to be helping you get ready.”

Tia beamed, holding onto Kallus’s leg, claws dragging at his pants. “I got away,” she said, looking up at him with bright green eyes.

Over at the kitchen counter, Jacen made a face.

“I see that,” Kallus said, returning her grin. “If I give you a bite of what I’m making, will you go back upstairs?”

She nodded. Kallus picked up a small bit of dough from the honey cakes he was making and gave it to Tia. After a second’s consideration, he handed one to Jacen as well.

Zeb appeared on the stairs and frowned. “You’re not giving her a treat, are you?”

Kallus shrugged. “She wanted one,” he said, as if that was any sort of real excuse.

Zeb shook his head, but smiled. He picked a squirming Tia up, carrying her under one arm. “Come on. Back upstairs with you.”

Kallus washed his hands and got back to work shaping the honey-filled dough and laying it out on a sheet for the oven.

“How long’s this gonna take?” Jacen asked, sounding antsy.

Kallus closed the oven and set a timer on his chrono. “Twelve minutes. Is that too long for you?”

“Nah.” Jacen sighed, casting a longing look at the long-range holo equipment in the corner of their living area.

Kallus felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Hera was still working for the New Republic and Jacen stayed on Lasan from time to time when she went on assignment. Kallus and Zeb didn’t mind – Jacen was an easygoing child and a good ‘cousin’ to Tia – but they knew it was frustrating for him.

“We’ll call and leave your mom a message when we get back,” Kallus promised. “But _you_ need to get ready too.”

Jacen looked pointedly at Kallus, whose shirt was covered with flour from the honey cakes.

Kallus nodded. “And so do I, you’re right. Let’s go.”

Herding Jacen upstairs was easier than corralling Tia, which Kallus was happy to leave to Zeb that morning. He quickly changed into something a little less casual and then went to check on Zeb.

He’d just finished brushing Tia’s hair when Kallus found them. “Looking good, both of you,” Kallus said, leaning in the doorway.

Zeb rolled his eyes, but Tia hopped up and down excitedly. “Are they ready, Papa?” she asked.

Kallus checked his chrono. “Three more minutes,” he said. “You want to help me put the sugar on them?”

She nodded and dashed out of her room and down the stairs.

Zeb looked exhausted already. Kallus held a hand out and he came, letting Kallus wrap an arm around his waist. 

Touching foreheads, Kallus asked, “Are you still up to this?”

“Yeah,” Zeb said. “It’ll be good.”

Kallus hummed. “And you still want another one? A human child?”

Zeb chuckled. “Yes and yes. And good thing, since we have that interview on Tepasi next week.”

“I suppose that is good,” Kallus agreed. He pulled Zeb closer to him and kissed him gently.

Or at least Kallus intended it to be gentle. Zeb had other ideas, turning the kiss into something deeper and more heated.

Kallus moaned quietly and Zeb grinned against his lips. “Tonight?” he whispered.

“If you can stay awake,” Kallus promised. “But right now I have to go check on those cakes.”

Zeb groaned in disappointment as Kallus pulled away, holding onto his hand as long as possible.

Both Jacen and Tia were gathered around the oven, watching the cakes finish rising. The timer on Kallus’s chrono went off and he pulled the cakes from the oven, careful to avoid little fingers reaching for the cakes.

“Remember,” he said, “we’re only keeping half of these.”

Tia pouted, but to no avail. Kallus held firm.

Zeb joined them as the cakes cooled, pulling out some waxy brown paper and tape and doling out pieces to each child.

As a group, they sprinkled them all with sugar, wrapped up six of the cakes, and Kallus set the others aside for later snacking.

“Are we ready?” Zeb asked.

The children nodded.

“Then let’s go!” Zeb picked up Tia while Kallus gathered up the cakes and Jacen.

The autumn air was cool and brisk, gusts of wind blowing through the Ithdasira streets, but it wasn’t unpleasant except for the hair flying in Kallus’s face.

The temple in the middle of the city was quiet, the midmorning not a popular time to visit. They bypassed the main temple entrance and went around back.

A curved wall of red Lasana marble had been erected there a couple years back, a project of Vashtyr’s. Carved in tiny letters were the names of every lasat that they knew died in the Imperial attack, with small holoprojectors attached to the wall at regular intervals, replaying surviving holos of the dead.

Once a month, Zeb and Kallus brought Tia – and Jacen if he was with them – to visit the wall and leave memorial offerings of the small honey-cakes.

As usual, they started at one end, Zeb leaving a cake for the royal family and another for the fallen Honor Guards. Zeb’s memory had improved over the years, with gentle help from Kafzyr and Chaftin, and he could tell stories about them all to Tia and Jacen.

Tia carried four cakes down the wall, finding the spot where Zeb’s sister and her family were listed: Jenobrin, Zalgavin, and Ashvyr Orrelios and Jen’s mate Kashin. It was a routine even the three year old had memorized by now.

Kallus stayed at the Honor Guard listings for a bit longer, however. He tapped the holo display – mostly the holos Zeb and Chaftin had recovered from the old Guard barracks – until a specific one floated in midair.

Bowing his head, Kallus left the last cake and traced his fingers over the name _Djen Olus_.

At first, he’d felt awkward leaving a cake for the Guard he’d killed, but Olus had seen honor in him even when Kallus was grossly misguided. If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t given Kallus his bo-rifle, Bahryn might not have gone the same way and Kallus could conceivably be among the defeated Imperials off licking their wounds. That, or dead in service of a corrupt Empire.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. _I hope I’ve lived up to whatever you saw in me_.

“Kal!” Zeb’s voice came from behind one of the curves in the wall. 

“Over here!” Kallus replied.

Zeb had Tia on his waist, Jacen by his side, and an indulgent smile. “Shoulda known. I’m always having to come look for you.”

“I owe him a lot,” Kallus said.

Tia frowned. “Who?”

Kallus sighed. “I’ll tell you someday, _ni kyra_. When you’re older.”

“But I wanna know now!” Tia fussed.

Zeb bounced her. “Listen to your papa. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Some of the time,” Kallus said softly, catching Zeb’s eye.

Zeb shook his head. “More than you think. Always more than you think.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this,” Kallus said, holding a hand out for Jacen. “Now do you want to go see Avi or do you want to go to the shop?”

“Avi!” came the immediate reply from both children.

Kallus smiled. “All right. Off to see your cousin.”

Zeb led the way toward the palace and Kallus followed with Jacen.

They’d only been on Lasan three and a half years, but it was a blink of an eye to Kallus. Life among the lasat and the other refugee communities scattered around the planet was calm and rejuvenating.

Four years before, Kallus would have said he could never be so happy, so fulfilled and at peace with himself and others. And, truth be told, if it hadn’t been for Zeb, he wouldn’t be.

But he _was_ at peace now. The war was over, the New Republic strong, Lasan vibrant again, and his own little family with Zeb close and loving.

Not too bad for two men who’d been trained to fight from their youths, Kallus reflected.

Tia looked over her shoulder, smiling. “Hurry up, papa!”

Kallus smiled at his daughter. “I’m right behind you, Tia.”

“We’d never leave him behind,” Zeb said reassuringly.

Heart warming, Kallus knew it was true. Through better or worse, whatever happened, he’d found a place to belong.

A place for all of them to belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this story! It's been an exciting two months and I hope you've been as entertained as I have been. I appreciate all your comments along the way and hope you find this ending satisfactory!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr ([hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) & [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/)) or twitter ([@fandomhixystix](https://twitter.com/fandomhixystix)) and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! New friends always welcome!


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